


the lines we cast will bring us home.

by lordvoldyfarts



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Multi, childhood sweethearts au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordvoldyfarts/pseuds/lordvoldyfarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura Hollis ran out of her wedding. With no place to go, she returns to her home town where things are far from how she left them.  After years away, she has to face the reality that she no longer knows where she fits. Her friends have all moved on. Lafontaine and Perry are getting married. Kirsch and Danny have a child. And Carmilla? Well, Carmilla is something else entirely. They were in love, once. Can they fall in love again? Or is their history just too much?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue.

_10…._

The sun is shining through the bay window. The sky outside is clear. Laura checks her phone and it says the temperature is mid 60s. It’s perfect.

She sits in the sill of the window. She’s still in her pajamas. Her coffee has gone cold in her hands. Her eyes are focused on something over the horizon and even she isn’t sure she’s looking at. Or for. There’s a knot in the pit of her stomach and she tries to convince herself that it’s nerves.

(Because it can’t be dread –it just can’t be.)

There’s a knock on the door. She sighs. “Come in.” She says lightly but her voice travels. She doesn’t turn away from the window.

“Hey. You’re still in your pajamas.” Comes the voice from the doorway. Laura nods. She looks down into her coffee cup. She traces her fingers around the rim.

“Yeah. I don’t know where to start. I can’t just get into the dress, can I?” She asks rhetorically. She looks up, shrugging mercilessly over at Lafontaine, who is still standing in the doorway. They’re still in their own sleepwear. Laura points to their periodic table pajama pants. “You’re not dressed either.” Lafontaine shakes their head, taking a few more steps into the room.

“I’m not the one getting married today.” Laura’s shoulders fall. She turns back to the window.

“Right.” The sunlight hits the diamond sitting on her finger. She stares at it. It feels heavy on her hand. Like it’s trapping her. Weighing her down.

“Try not to sound so enthused, Hollis. It’s only the most important day of your life.” Lafontaine jokes and Laura attempts to smile. It’s halfhearted.

“You’re right. I _am_ excited. It’s just nerves.” She rests the coffee cup on the sill of the window. She turns toward Lafontaine, pulling her smile fully across her face.

She can do this.

Right?

_9…_

Carmilla leans over the railing of the balcony. Her cigarette dangles from between her fingers. The ash is long but she doesn’t shake it off. It falls, eventually, and burns her fingers. She doesn’t move. The sun is in her eyes. She takes another drag.

She exhales. The smoke gets into her face. She hears footsteps behind her.

“You know I hate it when you smoke.” She hears from the doorway. She takes another drag. She turns. Ell is leaning against the frame of the door. She exhales the smoke toward her. Carmilla shrugs.

“And I hate it when you nag. Guess we’re even.” Carmilla mumbles in response. Ell is waving the smoke from in front of her face, her nose wrinkling. She’s only got underwear and a camisole on and her blonde hair is thrown up into a messy bun. Carmilla pushes off the banister. She reaches out. She grips Ell’s hip and pulls her in. She squeals. Carmilla smirks. She kisses the side of Ell’s mouth. Ell smiles, turning her face away from Carmilla. She nudges Carmilla’s cheek with her nose. She pulls back. Carmilla drops the cigarette. She stomps it out with the tip of her boot.

“Really though, Carmilla, you should think about quitting. It’s going to kill you someday.” Ell says, glancing down unfavorably at the collection of cigarette butts on the ground.

“That’s the plan.” Carmilla jokes but her smile is bitter and she sees the way Ell’s face falls. She knows they both know that mostly, she isn’t kidding. Carmilla pushes past Ell back into the apartment. “There coffee left?” She asks over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Half a pot.” Ell responds. She follows Carmilla back into the apartment, shutting the doors to the balcony behind her. Carmilla pulls a travel mug from the cupboard. She pours her coffee. She hears Ell pull one of the kitchen chairs out from the table. Carmilla turns and she leans against the counter. Ell is looking up at her with wide eyes. Carmilla raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Carmilla asks, agitated. Ell bites her lip. “Spit it out, blondie.” She continues, frowning. Ell looks down.

“Look, I know what today is.” Ell murmurs. Carmilla scoffs. She turns around to get a lid for her mug.

“I’m not talking about this with you.” Carmilla snaps. Her hand is shaking and coffee is spilling out all over her fingers. She jumps when she feels Ell’s hand rest on her shoulder. She shrugs it off. She fixes the lid on the mug and slips away, toward the front door. “I’m going to go pick up Thea from Leila’s place. I’ll call you later.” She mumbles, slipping out the front door without waiting for a goodbye.

_8…_

Lafontaine slips back into their own hotel room. Perry is sitting at the vanity, red curls up in a ponytail. Lafontaine smiles. They move to sit down next to her. Perry smiles. She leans in and kisses Lafontaine on the cheek. Lafontaine rests their hand on top of Perry’s, intertwining their fingers. “How is she?” Perry asks. Lafontaine shrugs, squeezing Perry’s hand.

“She looks empty, Perr. Nobody should look that empty on their wedding day.” Lafontaine says. They lean in. Perry meets them halfway. Their foreheads connect. “I don’t want to tell her how she should feel but…” Lafontaine trails off. Perry strokes the back of their knuckles with her thumb.

“I know.” Perry assures. She smiles then. “I promise you I’ll be nothing but smiles on our day. You’ll have to sew my mouth shut to get me to stop.” Lafontaine laughs, looking down at the ring on Perry’s finger.

“You better. With the amount of money I spent on that ring, you better not stop smiling for at least 30 years.” Lafontaine jokes. Perry pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I think that can be arranged.” Perry whispers. Lafontaine disconnects their hands just for a moment. They put their pinky up.

“Pinky swear?” Perry wrinkles her nose in that cute way that Lafontaine loves. She connects their pinkies. They shake.

“Pinky swear.” Perry echoes. Perry disconnects their fingers. “We should take our stuff over to Laura’s room. Help her get ready.” Perry glances down at her watch. “She’s getting down that aisle as long as I have a say in it.” Perry says stubbornly. Lafontaine laughs.

“Let’s do it.”

_7…_

“Will you just let me drive?” Danny exclaims. Her foot is resting on the glove compartment, her knee on the sill of the open window. The sleeves of her long sleeve shirt are rolled up to the middle of her arm.

Kirsch has one hand on the wheel, the other hanging out the window. He snorts. “Sorry, no can do. I want to get there before next week.” Danny rolls her eyes.

“Remind me again why I agreed to drive with you?” Danny says through clenched teeth. Kirsch looks over at her with a goofy grin and Danny thinks that maybe punching him in the face wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Gas money.” Kirsch says with a smug look. Danny scoffs. She turns so she’s looking out of her window. It’s warm in the car even though all of the windows are open. Danny wipes the sweat from her forehead. She reaches over and wipes it on the sleeve of Kirsch’s t-shirt. He shrugs away from her, making a disgusted face and an ‘augh’ noise coming from his mouth.

“Really? That’s disgusting, Lawrence.” Danny snorts.

“Are you really telling me you can’t handle a little bit of sweat? Baby.” Kirsch rolls his eyes. Danny sticks her tongue out.

“It’s disgusting. Keep your fluids to yourself, woman.” Danny’s hand rises from its resting spot on her leg. She hits him with the back of her hand. He looks over at her with wide eyes. “Ouch, okay, what was that for?” He exclaims. Danny raises an eyebrow. The car starts to swerve and she nearly reaches over and grabs the steering wheel from him. 

“Eyes on the road, jackass.” Danny practically yells. Kirsch’s eyes return to the road. “You’re going to get us killed, you know that right?” Danny exclaims. “How did you even manage to get your license?” Danny jibes and Kirsch smirks. He pulls his hand off of the wheel, crossing his arms. “Oh my god, what are you doing?” Danny exclaims and then she’s frantically reaching over Kirsch to grab the wheel. He cuts her off though with a laugh and putting his hand back where it belongs. Danny swears her heart is going to beat out of her chest. Mostly from anger. Kirsch is laughing and Danny crosses her arms over her chest, her face red and hair blowing in her face. “You’re never driving our daughter anywhere again.” Danny snaps. Kirsch’s laughter trails off.

“Lighten up, Lawrence. You know I’m safe when Thea’s in the car with me.” He sounds just a little offended. Danny hates that she feels bad when she hears the defeated tone in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Prove it.” Danny challenges, trying to lighten the mood in the car again. Kirsch’s eyebrow raises. “Bet you can’t resist the urge to fuck with me for the rest of the drive.”

“I’ve resisted the urge to fuck with you for years, Lawrence, a few hours is cake.”  Kirsch jokes and Danny rolls her eyes.

“Not like that, pig. Is that honestly all you think about?” Danny says, her lip raised in minor disgust. Sometimes, it hits her that _this_ is the man – no, boy, that she has a kid with.

“I’m a dude. I have needs.” Danny furrows her brows. Her lip curls.

“You’re disgusting.” She says. Kirsch just shrugs.

“Winner buys the beers?” He counters, ignoring her. With a sigh, Danny agrees.

_6…_

She’s wearing a robe and her hair is finally finished. Lafontaine is zipping Perry’s dress in the corner.

Her own dress is hanging on the edge of the wardrobe. It’s large. Poofy. Nothing like her Mother’s dress, which is what she’d always imagined she’d get married in but that….clearly wasn’t meant to be. Laura reaches her fingers out. She touches the satin lightly with her fingers. It’s a beautiful dress. When she tried on in the store, she felt like a princess. When she twirled, the skirt fanned out around her and it felt like a dream.

Actually, this whole thing kind of feels like a dream.

She wonders when she’s going to wake up.

Her sigh is deep and she drops her fingers to her side.

She doesn’t want to put it on. It weighs as much as she does and once she’s in it, she won’t be able to move. She wonders if she can wait until just before she has to leave to put it on.

Perry walks up behind her. She puts a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a beautiful dress, Laura.” She says. Laura nods.

“It is.” She agrees. She wonders if maybe, it would be more beautiful if her bride were a different girl. On a different day. In a different place. In a different life. She sighs again and it’s heavy. “It weighs a lot.” She comments. She looks at Perry out of the corner of her eye. Perry has the sympathetic look on her face that Laura is used to. Her smile is only half genuine. “I have to put it on, don’t I?” Laura says resignedly. She nearly misses the look Perry shoots Lafontaine over her shoulder. Nearly.

“Sweetie, if you don’t want to do this, nobody is forcing you.” Perry says carefully. Laura turns and forces a smile.

“No, I do. Of course I do.” She looks down at her ring again. “I said yes, didn’t I?” She murmurs. She wonders, if she had known all that she knew now, if her answer still would have been the same. She likes to think so. She hopes so. She is about to spend the rest of her life with this girl. She’d felt ready to do that eight months ago. A letter or two shouldn’t change that. Laura. “How much longer?” She asks. Her eyes don’t leave the dress.

“An hour. You have to put the dress on, sweetie.” Perry says. Laura nods.

“Okay.” She replies, if a little reluctantly. Perry grabs the dress from off of the hanger. Laura turns away. She hears the zipper and she shivers. She convinces herself that it’s anticipation. Laura unties the robe. Slowly, she drops it from her shoulders. The dress is settled on the ground and she steps into it. Perry pulls it up. Laura closes her eyes. Perry zips the dress and Laura feels like she can’t breathe. She inhales sharply. Perry pauses.

“Are you okay? Is it too tight?” Laura shakes her head.

“No, it’s fine.” Laura mumbles. Perry leans down and fluffs the skirt, pulling out all of the layers. She stands up and gets in front of Laura. She puts her hands on her shoulders.

“You’re a beautiful bride, Laura.” Perry comments and Laura smiles. It’s the first genuine smile she’s had all day. Perry’s own smile is bright and Laura believes her. She’s sure she does look beautiful.

She just doesn’t feel right.

_5…_

The moment she walks through the door, she’s got arms wrapped around the tops of her thighs. She’s nearly knocked over. She lets out an ‘oof’, rubbing the top of the little girls head, messing up her hair. “Hey, monster.” Carmilla says. Thea looks up at her with a bright smile. Carmilla wrinkles her nose down at her. Thea lets go of her legs and pulls at the bottom of her shirt. Carmilla grabs her from underneath the arms and lifts her up. She wraps her legs around Carmilla’s hips and her arms around Carmilla’s neck tightly. She kisses Carmilla’s cheek. It’s sloppy, as most kisses from six year olds are, and Carmilla makes a barf noise. Thea giggles. “Gross. Don’t slobber all over me, kid.” Carmilla says.

“Sorry, Auntie Carm.” Thea replies, just a hint of a lisp on the ‘s’ of her sorry. A product of her missing front tooth.

“Where’s your Grandma?” Carmilla asks, taking a few steps forward into the foyer of the house. Thea’s toys are strewn across the living room and Carmilla hears noises from the kitchen.

“I’m in here Carmilla!” She hears from the kitchen. Leila’s thick Brooklyn accent comes through and Carmilla follows the voice. She’s in the kitchen, washing dishes. She’s chewing gum, as she normally is. She shuts off the sink, drying her hands on a rag. Thea is starting to wiggle so Carmilla puts her down. Leila walks over to Carmilla and gives her a kiss on the same cheek that Thea did. “How are you doing? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” She says, turning around to go to the fridge. Carmilla wipes her cheek while she’s facing away from her. She catches Thea’s eye and makes a gagging motion. Thea giggles. “Do you want some water or something?” Carmilla jumps, turning back to Leila. She shakes her head.

“No, I’m good.” Really, she just wants to take Thea and get the hell out of here. She likes Leila well enough and normally she can handle conversation with the talkative woman but today? She just wants to spend time with the kid and keep her mind anywhere but on where all of her friends are.

“If you’re sure.” She says, stepping back from the fridge. “Her bag is on the table. They left a few pairs of pajamas in there for you and some shorts if you wanna take her to the park or somethin’.”  She says. Carmilla nods. She moves to the table and grabs the bag. She gestures to Thea with a nod of her head toward the door of the kitchen. Thea moves over to her. Carmilla reaches out her free hand, which Thea grabs.

“Sounds good.” She says. She pulls Thea toward the door. She hopes to escape without another awkward conversation but Leila has other plans. She grabs Carmilla’s shoulder before she escapes the kitchen.

“Listen, I know what today is-” She starts but Carmilla interrupts her with a shake of her head.

“I’ll see you later, Leila.” She’s not talking about this. If she wasn’t talking about this with Ell, she definitely wasn’t going to be talking about it with Leila Kirsch. She gives her a tight smile and tugs Thea toward the door.

This time, they manage to escape without another interruption. Carmilla swings their intertwined hands between them. She looks down at Thea. “So, what do you want to do today, kid? Gamble away your life savings? Rob a bank to get it all back?” Carmilla jokes. Thea laughs and leans into Carmilla.

“Ice cream!” She exclaims with a grin. Carmilla pretends to groan.

“Ice cream? _Again_? You are going to turn into an ice cream cone, Thea Lawrence.” Carmilla jokes. Thea looks up at her and sticks her tongue out. Carmilla does the same. “Anything else, kid? Ice cream won’t take our whole day.” And she needs the whole day. She’s glad that she gets to spend the day with Thea. She’s the only one who could make Carmilla forget about what today is.

“I wanna paint!” Thea once again exclaims and Carmilla pretends to mull it over.

“Alright…We could make that work.” Carmilla says, coming to a pause in front an old brick building. She pulls keys from her back pocket. She messes with them for a few seconds, finally finding the proper key for the front door. She opens it and stands behind it, letting Thea go in front of her. They stand at the bottom of the stairs for a moment. “But first…” She pauses, kneeling down so she’s eye level with Thea. “Race you up the stairs?” Thea’s eyes widen in excitement and she grins, shooting up the stairs, Carmilla following shortly after.

_4…_

They’ve finally made it to the church. Laura is sitting in the back room, waiting for her Dad.

Lafontaine is messing with their boutonniere and Perry figures it’s just because they’re nervous. For Laura. For themselves. Perry takes their hand. She shoots them a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be fine.” Perry whispers. Lafontaine’s smile in response is weak.

“I don’t want our wedding day to feel like this.” Lafontaine mumbles. “So dreary. Industrial. Stuffy.” They shift their weight and squeeze Perry’s hand. She leans in and kisses Lafontaine’s cheek.

“I promise you it won’t. I’m in charge of planning our wedding and it won’t be anything like this.” Perry whispers, looking around at all of the grey décor. She’d never imagined Laura getting married in a place like this. She’d always had Laura pegged as more of an outdoor wedding kind of girl. When Laura had come to them, saying that she was getting married in this church in New York, it took them all by surprise. They were supportive of course, they had to be, but if either Perry or Lafontaine were being totally honest, neither of them had even expected Laura to make it to the wedding day.

But they figured, if it made Laura happy, they would stand by her.

And up until now, Perry really had thought that this was making her happy.

But Perry’s never seen a bride dread getting into her wedding dress. Or nearly start to cry once it was on.

That wasn’t happiness.

“Have I told you that you look beautiful in that dress yet?” Lafontaine says with a lopsided smile. Perry blushes. It’s been years and she still gets butterflies every time Lafontaine compliments her. She doesn’t think they’ll ever go away.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind hearing it again.” Perry replies with a flirtatious lilt.

“You look beautiful in that dress.” Lafontaine repeats. Perry leans in and kisses the corner of Lafontaine’s mouth. They smile into the kiss.

“And you look incredible in your suit. It kind of reminds me of prom.” Perry says with a giggle. Lafontaine’s cheeks color and it’s clear they’re remembering the night of their senior prom.

“That was a little more haphazard.” They mumble. Perry squeezes their hand.

“Oh, please. It was wonderful. It was the moment I knew I loved you.” Perry says softly, feeling reminiscent. Maybe it was the wedding atmosphere.

“You’re telling me it wasn’t love it at first sight?” Lafontaine jokes and Perry throws her head back with a laugh.

“Sorry weirdo, not quite.” Perry says. “But I love you now.”

And she does. She really, really does.

_3…_

“You’re actually delusional if you think the Bruins have a shot at the cup this year. Have you seen the way your precious team is playing? They’re _horrible_. It’d be a miracle if they can even make the playoffs, let alone get to the final.” Danny exclaims, garnering a few strange looks from the other people sitting in the pews across from them. They’d finally made it to the church after a few more hours on the road. Danny had to change into her dress in a gas station bathroom, much to Kirsch’s amusement. He managed to change into a dress shirt (that happened to fit him very, very well) while she was in the bathroom and he made sure to wolf whistle as she walked out of the gas station, still trying to get her shoe all the way on her foot. She gave him the finger.

He had managed to win their bet, so Danny’s on the hook for their drinks for the night.

“I’m sorry, where are the Flyers in the standings right now? 12 points below the Bruins? Thought so.” Kirsch says and Danny rolls her eyes.

“They’re not even in the same division. We still have a shot. We just need to get our offense up and running again and we’ll be fine. Your Bruins on the other hand? Gave up one of your star players before the season even started. Just face it. You’re fucked.” Danny exclaims. Her face is flushing, as it’s prone to do when she starts talking about hockey. Especially when Kirsch starts on his ridiculous rants about how the Bruins are better than the Flyers. Kirsch is smiling at her and it’s goofy. She narrows her eyes at him. “What?” She asks harshly. He shakes his head.

“Nothing. Your face is starting to match your hair.” He comments and Danny’s nostrils flare. She slaps him on the shoulder. She’s about to comment when her phone vibrates from its spot in her cleavage. Kirsch stares as she pulls it out. He raises an eyebrow. She shrugs. “What? The dress doesn’t have pockets.” She mumbles as she glances down at her phone screen, which is alerting her to a new picture message from Morticia Karnstein. Danny elbows Kirsch in the side as she opens the picture.

It’s Thea, in one of Carmilla’s shirts which is way too long on her tiny frame, grinning up at the camera with paint all over her face. She’s got a paintbrush gripped in her hand and Danny feels just a small tug at her heart. She hates being away from Thea. She knows she’s in good hands with Carmilla but it doesn’t make her miss her any less. Danny’s grin is large as she leans into Kirsch’s shoulder to show him the picture. He grins and nudges her on the shoulder. “We made a cute kid, Lawrence.” He says just a little bit smugly. Danny can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, we did. Weird considering what you look like. Guess she looks like me.” Danny says with a grin. Kirsch’s smile is soft when he says,

“She does.” Danny blushes and looks down. The organ starts to play.

“Oh, they’re starting.” Danny says, turning her head so she can see toward the back of the church. They stand as the bridal march starts to play. Kirsch leans back and whispers in Danny’s ear,

“10 bucks says she doesn’t make it through the vows.” Danny scoffs. She narrows her eyes.

“You can’t just bet on her wedding, Kirsch.” She pauses. “She’s doing this.” He turns to her and the look in his eyes is sad. “I know that for Carmilla’s sake you don’t want this to work out, but...” Danny trails off as Laura walks through the door with her father. Kirsch shakes his head.

“It should be her up there.” He mutters. Danny can’t help but agree.

_2…_

Her clock strikes three and she feels her heart rate accelerate. She knows what’s going on hundreds of miles away from her right now and the thought of it makes her sick. She’s reclined on her couch and Thea is in the bathroom, washing her hands. They had just finished splatter painting another one of Carmilla’s large canvases. They’d gotten more paint on themselves than they did on the piece but it was worth it. It’d kept her mind off of New York. Thea had even intentionally jumped up and hit her in the face with a freshly dipped paintbrush.

She’d gotten her back though by knocking her in the cheek with the paintbrush of her own.

Carmilla has two bowls of ice cream sitting in front of her and Thea comes bounding out of the bathroom with still wet hands. She plops onto the couch next to Carmilla and wipes her hands on her shirt. Carmilla furrows her brow. “What’s that for, monster?” Thea shrugs.

“There was no towel in the bathroom.” She says. Carmilla wrinkles her nose at her but wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in tightly against her chest. She makes a fist and rubs her head, messing up her hair. Thea laughs against her chest.

“How can I be mad at you when you’ve got that lisp, kid? When are you going to get your front tooth back?” Carmilla asks, putting her hand down.

“I don’t know! Mommy says whenever the tooth fairy goes through her tooth collection and decides to give them back.” Thea says, completely seriously. Carmilla snorts.

“Okay.” She responds. She leans forward to grab the bowls of ice cream. She puts one on Thea’s lap. She’s about to eat her first spoonful when she hears a knock on the door. Thea is happily entranced by the bowl of ice cream on her lap. She’s sitting flat against the back of the couch and her feet barely reach the edge of the couch. With a sigh, Carmilla walks over to the door. She unlocks the bottom lock but leaves the chain on. She opens it just enough to see who is on the other side.

Carmilla sighs. “What are you doing here?” She asks. Ell holds up a bag of Chinese food and smiles, just a little guiltily.

“I know you said you wanted to be alone with Thea today but…I didn’t. Want to be alone. So I bought food and some movies and I’m spending the night.” Ell says with determination. Carmilla raises an eyebrow.

“And you just decided that?” Carmilla responds a little bitterly. Ell shrugs.

“If I’d called you would have told me not to come. C’mon I’m already here. And it’s raining. Don’t make me go back out there.” Ell practically begs.  Carmilla sighs. She’s persistent, Carmilla would give her that. She shuts the door and pulls the chain off. She opens the door and stands aside.

“Fine.” Carmilla says and Ell grins and it’s one of those really bright smiles that Carmilla knows Ell reserves only for her and she can’t help but smile back. Ell leans in and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

“Where’s Thea?” She asks. Carmilla gestures with her head over to the couch.

“She’s eating ice cream so she’s not going to be eating.” Carmilla murmurs. Ell nods as she puts the bag of food on the table. She stars pulling things out. “What’d you get?” Carmilla asks, walking over to the table and leaning over the bag.

“Lo mein. Shrimp for me, pork for you.” Ell hums and Carmilla smiles. She feels an overwhelming sense of affection for the girl next to her. She wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer to her. She kisses her on the cheek. Ell smiles.

“What was that for?” She says and Carmilla shrugs.

“Felt like it.” Ell just nods and Carmilla knows that Ell doesn’t want to push it. In case Carmilla takes it back. She won’t – but Ell doesn’t know that. They gather their food and move toward the couch. Carmilla sits down next to Thea, who has ice cream all over her face and Carmilla groans at her. “You are a mess, kid.” Thea shrugs, smiles, and then shoves another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. Ell sits down next to Carmilla. She rests her head on her shoulder and Carmilla turns her head toward her. “Thank you. For not letting me alone.” She whispers. Ell tilts her head up toward her. She kisses the base of her jaw.

“Any time.” She pauses. “I love you.” She murmurs. Carmilla’s smile fades. She turns away.

“I know.” Is all she says.

_1…_

She has her bouquet in her hands and her Dad is looking at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. She wants to cry. He walks up to her and kisses her cheek. “You look beautiful, darling.” He says and Laura looks down. She forces a smile.

“Thank you, Daddy.” She says. He’s choked up and Laura hates it when he cries. “Oh no, don’t cry.” She reaches out and he shakes his head. He wipes his eyes with his thumb.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He says. He puts a hand on her cheek. “I just wish your Mom was here.” He continues and now Laura’s tearing up. Yeah, she wishes she was too. “C’mon kid. Let’s get you married.” He jokes and Laura knows that it was meant to be light hearted but all it does is make her stomach sink to her toes like lead. He offers her his elbow and Laura grabs it. Her heart is racing and now she knows it’s not nerves. The doors to the church open and Laura sees the full pews and her fiancée waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Her stomach churns. She puts her head down, focusing on her footsteps.

One together. Two together. Three together.

The wedding march starts to play. She thinks she’s going to vomit.

Four together. Five together. Six together.

Her Dad is pulling her close. She wishes she could stay close to him forever. Or go back to when she used to fit against his chest when she sat in his lap. When everything was easier.

Seven together. Eight together. Nine together.

She finally looks up. Standing, at the end of the aisle, looking the same as she did when she was eighteen, is Carmilla. She has a smile on her face and wow. She’s beautiful. Laura blinks. Carmilla is gone. Her fiancée is there again. She pauses. She can’t do this. She turns to her Dad, eyes watering. She shakes her head. “I can’t do this.” She whispers. She drops her bouquet.

And then she runs.

_0._


	2. someday, gonna be gone.

_Three months later._

Thump. Thump. Thump.

From beneath the pile of blankets on the bed, Carmilla groans.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

With one eye open, she glances over at the alarm clock sitting on her end table. 8:30. Who the _fuck_ is awake at 8:30 on a goddamn national holiday? Certainly not her. Or any other sane person on this planet. She pulls the blankets even higher over her head. She’s sure that if she just ignores the knocking, they’ll go away.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Open up, Karnstein. I know you’re in there. I called your girlfriend and she spilled.” Fuck. It’s Kirsch. Well, he’s not going anywhere. Carmilla nearly hisses as she throws the blankets off and stalks toward the large metal door, a scowl etched on her face. With flaring nostrils, she pulls open the door. Kirsch is standing, with two coffees in his hand, on the opposite side of the door with a _stupid_ puppylike grin on his face. It’s disgusting.

“What do you want?” She grunts out and Kirsch pushes past her into the loft. She tosses a hand up in, only minor, disbelief. “Yes, Kirsch, of course you can come in. Thanks for asking.” Carmilla comments, an annoyed edge in her voice. Kirsch puts the coffees on the table and hops up onto her counter. She rolls her eyes. “Great, now I’m going to have to disinfect.”

“Chill out, Mills. I wipe front to back.” He says with a smirk and Carmilla wrinkles her nose.

“You’re repulsive.” She retorts, walking over to him and grabbing one of the coffees from the counter.

“Me? You’re the one who answered the door with no pants on. I could have been a burglar. I could have burgled you. Chicago style.” Carmilla takes a large gulp of the coffee, elbowing Kirsch in the side. “Ow, watch where you’re sticking those pointy things, mini-beast.” He exclaims.

“Karma.” Carmilla mutters in response. “Want to tell me what you’re doing here? At 8:30? When you _know_ I was out last night?” Kirsch’s face lights up and he points, as if he’s just remembering why he woke her up at, at least to her definition, the ass crack of dawn.

“Can you watch Thea for a little while today? I gotta drive Danny to her doctor’s appointment and then she wants to drag me to some fucking home store to pick out new curtains.” He says with an eye roll. Carmilla snorts.

“And you still want to tell me that two aren’t married?” She nearly mocks. He glares at her and she only shrugs in response. “What? You two fucking live together, with your kid and your dog. You’re married. Only thing missing is the ring. And you know, the relationship.” Carmilla laughs out. It’s Kirsch’s turn to elbow her. “Watch it, beast. You’re the one here asking me for a favor.”

“Dude, you gonna watch her or not?” Kirsch asks, bringing the conversation back to what he came for in the first place. Carmilla takes a long, deep, overdramatic sigh.

“Guess I could make it happen. What time do you need me to pick her up?” Kirsch claps her on the shoulder and slides off the counter.

“I’ll drop her off. 1? So you can go back to bed, sleeping beauty.” He teases and she flicks her middle finger up at him.

“I’m already awake. Pointless to go back to sleep now.” Carmilla mumbles. Kirsch clicks his tongue at her, in a weird gesture of understanding. He knocks her gently on the shoulder.

“Call your girlfriend. Ask her to bring you bagels or something.” He says, walking back toward the door.

“Yeah, yeah. Get out of here.” She yells after him. He waves just before the door closes. Carmilla sighs. The coffee cup in her hand is cooled down now, so she drinks as much of it as she can down. She tosses the empty cup into her sink, where it lands on top of a bunch of dirty dishes from god knows when. Her head is pounding and she needs at least four Advil in her system if she’s going to watch Thea today. That kid is a ball of energy on the worst day. And food. The only thing she’s got in her fridge is leftover cake from last night and as appealing as dessert for breakfast sounds, it’ll just give her a false sugar high. She walks back into her bedroom and picks her phone from off of the charger. She hits her second speed-dial and Ell’s picture pops up on the screen. She taps absentmindedly on the top of her thigh while she waits for Ell to pick up. “Hey, babe.” Ell says, rather cheerfully, after a few seconds of waiting. Carmilla groans the instant she hears Ell’s voice.

“How are you so awake right now? You drank almost double what I did.” Carmilla complains. Ell laughs and the high pitched noise makes Carmilla flinch.

“You’re too old to try and drink me under the table, sweetheart. I told you that last night. After your 7th shot.”  Ell giggles out and Carmilla drops, face first, into the pillows on her bed. She groans into them.

“I’m not old.” She murmurs and it’s a bit muffled because her mouth is buried against the pillows.

“Of course you’re not, sweetheart.” Ell coos and god, why did Carmilla call her again? If she’d known she would be like this, she never would have picked up the goddamn phone.

“Whatever.” She grumbles. “I have to watch Thea today and there’s no food here. Can you bring bagels?” Carmilla switches the subject back to the original reason she’d called. She hears Ell sigh.

“I have homework, babe. Winter courses wait for no woman.” Ell chirps and Carmilla rolls her eyes.

“C’mon. Please? I’ll make it worth your while.” Carmilla responds suggestively, though she really has no intention of doing anything besides saying thanks and offering her half of a bagel. Ell blows out a breath.

“Fine. I’ll be there in 20.” She relents, quickly, and Carmilla really isn’t surprised. She knows there isn’t a whole lot that Ell wouldn’t do for her. Bringing bagels on a Thursday morning is really the least of it. Carmilla hangs up before Ell has a chance to say anything else.

God, her head is fucking killing her.

-

He doesn’t bother knocking on the door of Danny’s bedroom. He turns the knob of the door and pushes inside. She’s brushing her hair, in front of the stupidly huge vanity mirror that had been a housewarming gift from his mother (which, he’d insisted they didn’t need but his mother was _more_ than insistent). He doesn’t watch her – rather, he watches her reflection, and she widens her eyes at him, incredulously. “Dude, what the fuck? I could have been changing!” She exclaims and Kirsch just rolls his eyes. He sits on the edge of Danny’s unmade bed.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Lawrence.” He retorts, rather gleefully. His smirk fades quickly though because Danny chucks her brush at him. It hits in square in the side of the ribs. “Ow!” He exclaims, hands covering the spot where the brush hit. It is, remarkably, close to the spot where Carmilla elbowed him earlier. Must be a girl thing. His eyebrows furrow. “What is it with the ladies in my life trying to cause me physical pain today?” He mumbles and Danny snorts.

“Carmilla hit you too?” She asks and with a grumpy look on his face, Kirsch nods.

“Elbowed me.” He mumbles.

“There is not a single doubt in my mind that you deserved it.” She says over her shoulder. She’s fiddling with the bottom of her shirt, which is currently exposing some of her pale stomach. He can see faint, pale white lines that cover most of the front of her stomach. He’s staring and he knows he shouldn’t be. He knows Danny hates it when he stares, but he really can’t help himself. Danny is hard not to stare at. She catches his stare in the mirror and immediately, her hands are pulling down the hem of her shirt to cover the exposed patches of skin. She looks down and away from him, color flooding her cheeks. Kirsch shakes his head, pushing himself up off of the bed. He stands behind her. Lightly, he touches his fingers to her hip.

“Why are you embarrassed?” He asks, voice just barely above a whisper. “You made a person in there. That’s rad, Lawrence.” He continues, looking up to meet her eyes in the mirror. They’re watching him. She opens her mouth, like she wants to say something, but shuts it just as quickly is it opened. She swallows and now Kirsch really can’t take his eyes off of her (not that he’d ever been able to anyway). She shivers and there’s a crash that comes from somewhere outside of the room and Danny jumps away from him. She walks toward the door and gives him a look he can’t read before she crosses the threshold.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Another fucking almost.

-

It’s easy enough to pretend that she doesn’t get butterflies when he touches her.

Danny’s always found herself to be very convincing. She can talk anyone, including herself, into or out of anything. So when he touches her, all she has to do is talk herself out of feeling it. And it works. Mostly.

It’s easy to pretend that he’s still that bonehead who knocked her up when she was 19. He says, and does, some of the same shit he said and did then and it’s _easy_. It’s so easy to pretend that he hasn’t grown up. To say that she can’t lo- _like_ him because he’s just not where she is, mentally.

But sometimes, sometimes, he sneaks up on her. He’ll do something like tell her how amazing she is for carrying Thea, and tell her that she shouldn’t be embarrassed of her stretch marks and then suddenly, it isn’t as easy. Suddenly, there’s _something_ bubbling underneath the surface of her skin and she almost, _almost_ , imagines herself giving in.

And then something will shake her back to reality and she’ll remember just who it is she’s thinking about and everything will be right again.

The noise that shook Danny away from Kirsch turned out to be the dog. She managed to knock over the side table next to the couch. She’s sitting now, next to her damage, with a perfectly innocent look on her face. Danny rolls her eyes. She leans down to look into Sadie’s eyes. She points at the dogs face with her long first finger. “Bad girl! You need to keep your paws to yourself.” She scolds and Sadie bows her head, huffing. Danny can’t stay mad for long so she reaches her hand out and rubs the top of her head, tickling just between her ears. She barks in pleasure. “Silly girl.” Danny mutters and she stands back up.

She hears footsteps and she whips her head around. Kirsch is standing in the doorway, with Thea’s arms gripped tightly around his neck. She’s grinning and her hair is a mess. She’s still in her cookie monster footie pajamas. “Mama!” She exclaims from her spot on Kirsch’s back. She reaches out one of her arms toward her. Danny grins. She walks toward them and when she’s within an arms distance, Thea grabs at the back of her neck with her outstretched hand. She pulls Danny in, so she’s pressed up against the front of Kirsch. Danny tries to ignore how his torso feels pressed against hers. Instead, she plants a big kiss on Thea’s cheek. She’s met with giggles and gets a kiss on the cheek in return. Thea lets her go and she starts to wiggle. Kirsch bends down so Thea can put her two feet back on the ground. She runs straight up to Danny and wraps her arms around her the middle of her thighs. Danny pretends to be knocked back, muttering a small, “Oof,” as Thea crashes into her. Danny musses up her hair.

“How do you feel this morning, Monkey?” Danny asks and Thea looks up, resting her chin on Danny’s thigh. She grins.

“Good!” She replies with enthusiasm only a child can possess. Danny starts to walk forward, slowly, and Thea matches her steps but backwards. “Can you make me Pancakes, Mama?” She asks with wide eyes and a smile. Danny pretends to think about it but really, she knows she can’t say no to Thea.

“Oh, sure.” She replies, groaning for dramatic effect. Thea lets go of her legs only to jump up and down excitedly.

“Yay!” She says, turning around and running into the kitchen. Kirsch is leaning against the doorframe, arm crossed and a smirk on his face.

“What?” She asks with a small smile. He shakes his head, looking down at his shoes, and then back up at Danny.

“Nothing.” He replies dismissively and Danny rolls her eyes. She pushes past him with a smirk. She pretends she doesn’t feel his eyes on her as she walks into the kitchen. Thea is already waiting for her, her special apron thrown over her neck but still untied. She has a whisk in her hand and clearly, she’s ready to make breakfast. Danny throws her head her head back in laughter. Kirsch, following the sound, comes to stand next to her in the kitchen. He snorts, pulling out his phone. “Hey Thea, smile!” He says and Thea does as he asks, holding the whisk up to her cheek and grinning so hard her eyes close. He takes the picture and Danny walks toward Thea.

“C’mere kiddo. Let me tie that for you.” She says, leaning down to secure the apron around Thea’s waist. After it’s tied, she moves toward the cupboard, pulling out a bowl. She yells over her shoulder to Kirsch, “Grab me the flour, will you?” She hears him groan.

“Do I have to?” He whines and Danny rolls her eyes. She looks at him, turning her head over her shoulder this time, and glares though it lacks any sort of harshness.

“If you want me to make any of these for you, yes.” She retorts and within a minute, the flour, and most of the other pancake ingredients are sitting next to her on the counter. She smirks. “Thank you.” She says in a sing-song voice. Danny grabs the measuring cups from where they’re hanging on the cupboard door and she hands them to Thea, who is standing on a stool next to Danny, so she comes up to almost her shoulders. “Ready?” She asks and Thea nods, holding out the measuring cup in front of her. She feels movement on her other side and she looks to her right. Standing next to her is Kirsch with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Ready, Cap.” He replies with a salute.

She can’t help but grin.

-

“I’m packing up the last box now. I’ll be down in a minute.” Laura says into the receiver, using her knee to push the box higher into her hold. It’s heavy, but it’s everything didn’t fit in all of the other boxes.

It’s strange, she thinks, that her whole life here in New York can be condensed and packed up into three boxes. She knows that with the job she has- _had_ -that she couldn’t really afford to be sentimental. Keeping knick-knacks just wasn’t something she could do. Well, for the most part. Her fingers drift to the heart shaped locket that’s dangling from her neck and she wonders if it would be inappropriate if she showed up wearing it. If she would even recognize it. She figures it’s been long enough now that it would be fine. And that’s counting on the fact that she would even see her. Though, the town is small and really, it’s inevitable. But Laura thinks she can avoid. She’s pretty good at that.

The apartment is empty. It used to belong to Laura and her fiancée but after Laura ran out on the wedding, it seemed logical that they find a loophole in their joint lease and end it early. Her fiancée had moved out while Laura was out of the country on her last assignment. After Laura returned to the city, she was alerted by her landlord that she had to be out by the first of the year and really, that didn’t give her any time.

It was a good thing her Dad was willing to take her back in on such short notice.

She still has a tan line from her engagement ring on her finger. It’s been three months and she thought that it would have faded completely by now but clearly, someone up there is hellbent on reminding her exactly what she did. Karma, she supposes.

With the last box taped up, she walks out of the apartment and turns the key, locking it for the last time. She bends down and slides the key beneath the welcome mat, so the landlord would find it when he came looking. Her Dad is waiting downstairs with his truck, where the rest of her boxes are already packed. She thinks that under different circumstances she would enjoy a road trip with her father but right now, it just feels like a 5 hour long walk of shame.

(But, again, that’s probably karma.)

She chooses to walk down the five flights of stairs, not eager to wait with the rather nosey neighbors for the elevator. It’s cold, as it often is in January in New York City, and really, Laura should be wearing a jacket but her hoodie is doing enough for her right now. She walks out of the apartment building and over to her Dad’s car. She tries to open the door, first without looking, and when it doesn’t immediately pull open, she peers into the window. Her Dad is sitting, with his arms crossed over his chest, chin tucked down, sleeping. She can’t help but laugh. She knocks on the window, three times quickly. Her Dad jumps and when Laura points down to the lock with her free hand, he opens it. She slides in the front seat of the car, turning her body so she can place the box in the backseat of the car. She closes the door with a sigh. Her Dad has one of his hands on the wheel, the other on the key in the ignition. He looks over at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You ready, kid?” He asks and really, she isn’t sure that she is. But she has to be.

“As I’ll ever be.” She responds and that’s the truth of it. She still feels a bit like a dog walking home, with its tail between its hind legs, embarrassed because she couldn’t quite make it work.

But that’s life.

And that’s karma.

-

“No, get away, your breath smells like garlic!” Carmilla exclaims, putting her hand up and into Ell’s giggling face.

“What? Do you not like garlic? I had _no_ idea.” Ell teases, sticking her tongue out and licking a small line on Carmilla’s palm. Carmilla wrinkles her nose and pulls her hand away.

“You’re disgusting.” She comments, wiping her palm on the sleeve of Ell’s shirt. Ell shrugs, holding a half of bagel up to Carmilla’s mouth. She glares over at Ell for a moment before she opens her mouth. Ell smiles as Carmilla takes a bite. Ell giggles when she pulls the bagel away and Carmilla narrows her eyes at her. “What?” She asks with a bit of bite. Ell shakes her head, scooting closer to her. She leans in and brings a finger up to her lips. Lightly, she drags her thumb across Carmilla’s bottom lip. She pulls it away and with a small smirk, she says,

“You had some cream cheese on your lip.” And Carmilla smiles. She leans forward and presses her lips against Ell’s quickly.

“You taste like garlic too.” Carmilla whispers against Ell’s lips, sufficiently ruining the moment. Ell laughs against Carmilla’s mouth, pulling her head back.

“I’ll go brush my teeth.” She says, pushing herself off of the couch. Carmilla catches a glance at the clock hanging from the wall, alerting her to the fact that it’s nearly 1. She sighs.

“Don’t bother. You have to go. Kirsch is going to be here with Thea any minute.” She comments, standing off of the couch herself. She watches Ell’s shoulders fall and she pretends that she doesn’t see it.

“I can stay, you know, if you want help or just…adult company.” She offers with a hint of uncertainty in her voice. Carmilla shakes her head.

“No. You should go. You have to study, remember?” Carmilla reminds and she _knows_ Ell isn’t happy. She hears it in the heavy sigh that exits her mouth.

“I could study here! I have my laptop and that’s really all that I need!” Ell starts to sound like she’s begging and Carmilla can’t deal with that. She shakes her head.

“Just go, Ell.” She says dismissively, moving into the kitchen.

“You let me stay that night.” Ell whispers, effectively freezing Carmilla in her tracks. She closes her eyes and counts to five.

“You just showed up. What was I supposed to do, send you home in the rain? The weather’s fine today. You can leave.” Carmilla snaps with her back still toward Ell. She doesn’t want to look at her. She knows that there will be tears filling her eyes and god, Carmilla hates it when she cries. It makes it much more difficult to say no to her. She hears a dejected sigh and then the rustling of a bag.

“Fine.” She replies and Carmilla can hear the waver in her voice. She still doesn’t turn around. “Will you call me later?” She asks and Carmilla shrugs.

“Dunno. Maybe. Depends on how long Thea stays.” Carmilla responds.

“Right.” Is all Ell says before Carmilla hears the slam of her door. She winces. She throws the used butter knife into the sink before the turns and rests her elbows on the edge of the counter. She leans her forehead into them, dragging her hands through her hair, gripping onto the roots tightly.

God, everything with Ell is so fucking complicated. She wishes it wasn’t. She wishes it were easier. She wishes she were easier.

Mostly though, right now, she wishes she’d never let Ell stay that night. She wishes she’d never broken that rule. The ‘keep Ell and Thea separated’ rule. The ‘never let her stay with you, always stay with her’ rule. She wishes she’d never let Ell in because now she expects it and that’s just no good.

She’s only pulled from her reverie when she hears another knock on the door, followed by the sound of it sliding open. She stands, rolling her eyes. “Do you ever wait for permission to come in?” She asks and Kirsch scoffs.

“Like it’s possible for me to see you in any position I haven’t already seen you in.” He replies and Carmilla has to give that one to him. She nods. He’s alone so she has to ask,

“Where’s the kid?” Kirsch looks over his shoulder and shrugs.

“Sold her for drug money.” He deadpans and Carmilla stares at him for a moment before they both laugh. “Nah, Danny’s got her downstairs. She’s fixing her jacket or something.” Kirsch shrugs. Carmilla nods. “Saw Ell walking out of here. Kinda looked like she was crying. What’d you do this time?” Kirsch comments. Carmilla rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, a little bit petulantly.

“I didn’t _do_ anything. And even if I did, it would be none of your business.” She sneers and it’s Kirsch’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Drop the act, Karnstein. I’ve known you too long.” And he’s not wrong. They’d been friends, best friends though she’d be hesitant to admit that to anybody, since she was eighteen. He knew her better than anyone. Her shoulders fall.

“She wanted to stay.” She mumbles and she tries to be nonchalant about it. Kirsch lets out a breath and he walks over to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. She turns her head up at him and she glares.

“You gotta let her in at some point, dude. She’s super patient but even she won’t wait for you forever.” He says and Carmilla wrinkles her nose. Kirsch pulls her closer to him and she wraps an arm around his torso. She sighs.

She doesn’t respond. She just sighs, turning her head into his chest. The hand that’s been resting on Carmilla’s shoulder rises up and messes up her hair. She raises one of her hands and smacks him lightly on the chest. “Don’t fuck up my hair, you dick.” She grumbles and he laughs.

“You’ll be fine.” He replies, once again pulling her closer to his side. She relaxes into him. He might be a meathead, but sometimes he knows what he’s talking about (though it would take a long night of torture to ever get her to admit that). And he gives _really_ good hugs.

The door slides open again and within a few seconds, Thea is attached to one of Carmilla’s thighs and one of Kirsch’s. Carmilla laughs and so does Kirsch. Carmilla pats the top of her head.

“Hey, kid.” She says and Thea’s grip on her thigh tightens. “Go take your coat off. Get comfortable. Stay awhile.” She says, attempting to peel her leg away from Thea’s near death grip. She lets go and starts to unzip her coat and take it into Carmilla’s bedroom just as Danny walks into the apartment. She acknowledges Carmilla with a nod of her head.

“Karnstein.” Carmilla nods back.

“Lawrence.” Danny tries to keep a straight face but it crumbles into a smile pretty quickly. Carmilla gives her a smile back.

“Make any new abstract vagina paintings lately?” Danny asks, glancing around the messy loft. Carmilla shrugs.

“What, the one I gave you for Christmas not good enough for you?” She says, as seriously as she can. Danny gives a half-shrug.

“Wasn’t your best work, I have to say. I was a little disappointed.” She jokes and Carmilla flips up her middle finger at her.

“Oh, shove it.” Carmilla replies even though she knows Danny is (mostly) kidding.

“Thanks for watching her. I know you were out last night.” Danny says and Carmilla waves a hand.

“Not a big deal. I’ve watched her with worse hangovers.” She says noncommittally and Danny’s eyes settle into a light glare.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Danny mutters, turning to look down the hallway near where Thea ran off. “Thea! We’re leaving!” She yells and finally, Kirsch pulls his arm off from around Carmilla’s shoulder. From down the hall, they hear,

“Okay bye!” Carmilla throws her head back in laughter. Kirsch snorts. Danny bites down on her lip and she tries not to laugh out loud.

“Oh no, you better get your butt out here and say goodbye, Monkey!” Danny yells again and they hear a loud huff before the shuffling of little feet. Thea comes out from Carmilla’s bedroom with a scowl on her face.

“ _Bye_ Mom.” She says with sass and Danny walks over to her and leans down, kissing her forehead.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, Monkey.” Danny murmurs. She walks back toward the door. Kirsch sweeps over to Thea and kisses the top of her head.

“See you later, kid.” He says before he walks back over to Carmilla. He puts a hand on her shoulder and he squeezes. “Call your girlfriend.” He says and Carmilla rolls her eyes.

“We’ll see. Go. Drive your wife to her appointment.” Kirsch glares at her but he doesn’t say anything. He just walks back toward Danny, who waves at Carmilla before they walk out of the door and pull it shut.

“Auntie Carm! Come see what I made!” Thea says, running up to her and grabbing her hand, pulling her back toward the bedroom where she had just vacated. Carmilla’s eyes widen.

“What could you have possibly made in two minutes back there?” Thea grins up at her, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Come _see_.” She says, pulling again on her hand.

Carmilla sighs. She’s in for a long afternoon.

-

Lafontaine isn’t sure which view they enjoy more – the sunrise over the mountain view from the backdoor or Perry’s sleeping face next to theirs.

(It’s Perry – it’s _always_ Perry.)

They wake before she does, as they usually do. Most would expect that Perry is the earlier riser but that girl can sleep like a dead man on the best day. She rarely wakes before 11 if she doesn’t have to. Lafontaine, on the other hand, hates sleeping in. They always feel like they’re wasting the day.

They wake up, this morning, the first of the New Year, facing Perry. Her mouth is falling open and she’s snoring just a little bit. Her red curls are spread like a halo across the pillow and Lafontaine can’t help but smile. She’s so beautiful and Lafontaine is so lucky. They know that.

They climb out of bed, slowly, even though they know that even an earthquake couldn’t wake Perry up. The sun is barely rising over the clouds so they have time to make a pot of coffee before watching the sunrise. They nearly trip over a pile of Perry’s wedding magazines that must have fallen off of the edge of the bed in the middle of the night. Lafontaine had barely been able to get Perry’s nose out of _Brides_ Magazine. She wants everything to be perfect and no matter how many times Lafontaine tells her that all they need for the day to be perfect is for Perry to be there, standing across from them, saying ‘I do’, Perry still insists that a grand affair is what’s going to make it perfect. And really, Lafontaine is willing to give Perry anything that she wants.

The coffee brews quickly and Lafontaine fixes it the way that they like. No cream, three sugars. They glance at the clock on the stove. 6:23am. They move toward the back porch. They slide the glass doors open, still trying to keep quiet. They sit on the porch swing and take a sip of their coffee as they watch the sun slowly rise over the horizon. They’re very lucky, they realize. They’re not only marrying the most beautiful girl on the planet, but they have one of the best views of the sunrise imaginable and they get to wake up to that every single morning.

They’re nearly finished with their first cup of coffee when they hear the sliding door opening. They look over their shoulder to see Perry sleepily rubbing her eyes, her oversized white sweater riding up just enough to expose some of her stomach. She’s put her hair up into a bun and thrown a headband on. She’s yawning. “Hey, what are you doing awake?” Lafontaine asks, scooting over so Perry can sit down next them. She takes the cue and sits, folding her legs underneath herself, and resting her head against Lafontaine’s shoulder.

“Woke up and smelled the coffee.” She murmurs into Lafontaine’s shoulder. They snort.

“It’s only 7. Go back to bed, babe.” Lafontaine whispers into her ear. Perry just nuzzles her head further into Lafontaine’s shoulder.

“I’m awake now.” She says, turning her head out toward the sunrise. “It’s beautiful. I see why you wake up to watch it every morning.” And Lafontaine is looking at Perry when they respond,

“Yeah. Beautiful.” Perry looks up and meets Lafontaine’s eyes. She grins.

“You are so cheesy.” Perry says and Lafontaine shrugs.

“I have no problem with that.” They respond, turning their head down to kiss the top of Perry’s head. They’re silent for a few moments while the watch the sun rise over the clouds and paint the sky a brilliant shade of orange.

“I need to make croissants.” Perry mumbles, breaking the silence. Lafontaine laughs.

“Are you going to head over to the bakery?” Lafontaine asks and Perry sighs.

“I think so. It’s New Year’s. Someone out there is bound to need a brownie or two.” She says.

“I’ll come with you. And I’ll try not to eat all of the brownie batter before you get a chance to put them in the oven.” Lafontaine teases and Perry chuckles.

“Yeah, right. You couldn’t keep your hands out of the batter if your life depended on it.” Perry teases back, dragging her hand down to play with the edge of the tie of Lafontaine’s pajama pants.

“I mean, in a way, doesn’t it?” Lafontaine replies with a laugh and Perry elbows them in the side, gently.

“Oh be quiet.” Perry murmurs. “Enjoy the sunrise, weirdo.”

And they try, they really do, but they can’t stop looking at Perry.

-

He drives around while Danny’s in the office. He has an hour to kill so he drives past some of his properties. While he, and the rest of the people he works with, have the day off, he hates the idea of his properties being unattended. Anything could happen while they were away and he knew that often, he had to pay for ‘anything’. The house near the edge of town, his biggest project right now, is halfway through development. They built the framework for the house in the fall, while the temperatures were still good, and they were working on the inside now. Drywalling a three floor house isn’t the most thrilling part of his job but it’s necessary and he knows that. Plus, it’s relaxing.

It lets him take his mind off of…everything else.

(Danny, it lets him take his mind off of Danny.)

He contemplates getting out and doing some work on the house while he has some free time. His hands are itching to touch something, to ruin something, and so he needs to keep them far away from Danny.

(He’s done enough damage to her as it is, he figures.)

But he doesn’t have enough time. Danny will be finished soon and she hates waiting. Especially in the cold. So he sticks to tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music on the radio. He tries to clear his head, tries to stop thinking, but he can’t manage. His thoughts are racing a million miles a minute. It’s only the first day of the New Year, and he can already rule out the idea of this year being any different than the years before. He’s still miles away from Danny and he’s still watching Carmilla self-destruct.

He knows he isn’t in a position to judge Carmilla, especially when it comes to her relationship, but he’s goddamn sick of watching her shut down and shut everybody out. Ell treats her well. She loves her. And she brings the closest thing to a full smile to Carmilla’s face Kirsch has seen in years. He just wishes that she would let her in.

And maybe he’s just projecting.

Maybe he wishes Carmilla would let Ell in because it would give him hope. Hope that Danny might let him in someday.

But that’s wishful thinking and after seven years of it, he knows better.

He loves Danny. Like, _loves_ her loves her.

He’s been in love with her since….well he can’t even remember when he wasn’t in love with her. She’s the greatest person he knows. After everything she’s been through, to still stand there and smile?

She’s his hero.

And not in the ‘I want to be her when I grow up’ kind of way but in the ‘If I’m half as strong as she is, I’ll be okay’ kind of way.

And maybe it’s dumb of him to keep hoping that one day, Danny will fall in love with him. Maybe it’s dumb to hope that something will change. But he’s never been one to give up on anything. Danny is the last thing in the world he wants to give up on.

An old Goo-Goo Dolls song plays as he pulls back up in front of the old brick building he’d dropped Danny off an hour earlier. She walks out with her head hung low and her hands gripping at her elbows. She climbs into the car and she doesn’t say anything. He stares for a moment. “Yo, you alright?” He asks, his hand jerking off of the steering wheel slightly. He wants to reach over, rest his hand on her shoulder, something, but he knows better. She shrugs.

“Just drive.” She mumbles and he does. He presses on the gas, accelerating quickly out of his parking spot. The car jerks and Danny doesn’t even say anything. He reaches down and turns up the radio, where the song is in the middle of an intense instrumental, which Kirsch proceeds to sing along to. Danny looks up from her lap to give Kirsch a questioning glace. His humming gets louder as the instrumental gets louder, and finally, the words start again.

“And I don’t want the world to see me, cause I don’t think that they’d understand!” He yell-sings and finally, Danny cracks a smile. Kirsch keeps singing until, with just a few lines left of the song, Danny is singing along with him.

The final chords of the song ring through the speakers and Danny leans her head back against the headrest. She sighs. “Don’t quit your day job. You’re a terrible singer.” She says, looking over at him with a half-smile. He shrugs.

“I was thinking, I could totally make it as a rapper. Big Daddy K.” He says and Danny snorts.

“Please do not. I promise I will take you off of Thea’s birth certificate if you even call yourself Big Daddy K again.” She responds with a laugh.

“What about Kir$ch? Me and Ke$ha would make an epic duo.” He continues and Danny is full on laughing now. She shakes her head.

“You’re a dumbass,” She murmurs but it lacks any kind of conviction. “Keep driving, K-dog. We’ve got curtains to buy.” He pretends to groan.

“Do we really have to? I don’t mind looking into the neighbor’s window for a little while longer.” Danny shakes her head.

“We really have to. C’mon, I’ll even let you pick out the ones for the bathroom, seeing as you spend so much time in there.” Danny teases, so Kirsch does the adult thing in response: He sticks his tongue out at her.

-

She hates how much these appointments take out of her. How drained she feels.

She knows she has to do it. She made promises. And she’s made a lot of progress since….well. Since the beginning. It’s just draining. And she wishes she didn’t have to. She wishes she wasn’t so broken.

She likes that Kirsch can read her. She supposes that’s just a side-effect of living with somebody for seven years. You get to know them as well as you know yourself. She knows that as soon as she steps into the car, he’ll know. He knows better than to ask but god, if there’s one person who knows what to do to make her smile again, it’s Kirsch, as much as she might hate to admit it.

They don’t talk for most of the ride. She stares out the window and she tries to put the last hour out of her head. She doesn’t need to think about this. She doesn’t. She thinks about it for one hour a week and that’s it.

She’d lost in her own head when she feels a hand on her shoulder. She jumps. Kirsch is looking at her with a concerned expression so she puts a smile on her face. He points out of the window. “We’re here.” He says. She takes a deep breath and unbuckles her seatbelt.

“Great! Let’s go!” She says with as much faux enthusiasm as she can muster. She walks out of the car and she’s a few strides ahead of Kirsch but he catches up quickly, grabbing her wrist. She pauses, turning to him. “What?” She asks with some bite and his eyes are wide and _pitying_ and no, she doesn’t need this.

“You don’t have to keep it to yourself, you know. If you want to talk about it…” He trails off and she’s sure he can see that her eyes are hardening. “Or you know, not. Whatever. Just thought I’d offer.” He backpedals, dropping her wrist. She takes a calming breath.

“I’m fine. I don’t need to talk about it. Can we just get curtains now?” She responds, just a hint of desperation hanging on the edge of her words. He nods, a little slowly. “Great.” She says, turning around and walking toward the sliding doors.

She’s browsing through an aisle of horrendous looking yellow curtains when Kirsch taps on her the shoulder, holding up a set of Batman curtains in one hand and Mario Kart curtains in the other. He’s got a childlike grin on his face and Danny groans. “You’re kidding, right? You know those are kid’s curtains?” She says incredulously and Kirsch shrugs.

“So? We’re still kids at heart, Lawrence.” He comments. She stares for a minute. And then she shrugs.

“Fine. If you really want them, go ahead. But I’m not paying for them. You can use your allowance.” And she pretends that she doesn’t know him when he jumps up in excitement, pounding his fist in the air. Quickly, she turns the corner of the aisle, into more disgustingly colored curtains. She sighs.

“These all look like vomit.” Kirsch says from behind her. She groans, letting her head fall back.

“I know. Why are there no fun adult curtains?” She muses.

“You know, we _could_ get all of them from the kid’s section…Thea would love it.” Kirsch replies and Danny looks over at him for a moment, honestly considering it. Then she shakes her head.

“No we can’t. We have to at least pretend we’re capable adults and having Mario Kart curtains in the living room doesn’t give off that impression.” Kirsch snorts.

“You only say that because I totally kick your ass every time we play.” Danny looks over to him with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh you wish. You suck at Mario Kart. I take you every single time.” She replies and Kirsch stares at her, eyes widening.

“That’s a damn lie, Lawrence and you know it. You just don’t know how to take a loss!” Danny laughs.

“Alright. Tonight. You, Me, and Rainbow Road.” Kirsch leans in and suddenly, his face is only inches from her own and Danny almost forgets what they were just talking about. He smirks, glancing down momentarily at her lips but quickly raises them back to her eyes.

“You’re on.” He whispers and then he pulls back, moving forward and leaving Danny standing, speechless, in his wake.

Ten minutes later, they’re walking out of the shop, the only thing they actually purchased were the Batman curtains.

-

She’s quiet for most of the drive.

Mostly, she leans her head against the window and watches the scenery pass. She’s never driven this particular route before (and she tries really, really hard not to think about why). Her Dad doesn’t try and talk to her and she figures that’s because he knows that there isn’t a whole lot that he can say to her to make her feel….any kind of better.

Her whole life has fallen apart in a matter of months.

Of course, it was her own fault that she ran out of her wedding. She did that, and really, she could own it. She knows that particular wall fell apart because of her. And really, it had all started before that, with the stupid fucking letters. God. People really ought to stop underestimating the power of the written word because boy, can it change lives. But that’s old news now.

Not that the guilt of it has stopped crushing her. She figures that it probably never will. She broke someone’s heart. She let someone believe, until the very last second, that they were the person she was going to spend the rest of her life with. She’d been walking down the aisle, toward them, and then she dropped her bouquet and ran away. Her life wasn’t the only one she tore apart that day.

She’d spent the last three months in Guatemala, on assignment, only to come back and find out that she no longer had a job. It was like someone had decided that since Laura had ruined someone else’s life, she had to get hers ruined as well. Her job was everything. It had enabled her to see the world. She’d been all over, to more countries than she could count, and now that was just….gone. Budget cuts, they’d said. They didn’t have the room to keep their travel and international news section as large as it once had been and even though Laura had been working with them for three years, she was still the newest employee and therefore the one that they had to say goodbye to. Frankly, she thought that was bullshit and she’d fought them. That had had only succeeded in getting her escorted out of the building by security.

She’d called her Dad, in tears, telling him that she had nothing left. She had no place to live, no job, no money, and she was living out of a suitcase in a hotel. After she’d ranted for…well, too long, her Dad calmly told her that her bedroom in his house is always open for her and maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to come home for a little while. It had been years since she’d been back in Styria and well, he missed her. It could be good for her take some time off. To figure out where she wanted to go from here.

And it had taken some convincing on her Dad’s part, and a few days of living in a motel with cockroaches, but eventually, she’d agreed. Though the minute she’d hung up, after she told him to come and get her, her stomach sank because while she loved her Dad and seeing him would be lovely, going home meant something else too.

It meant Carmilla.

It meant facing the reason she’d dropped the bouquet. Seeing the face she saw at the end of the aisle, all grown up. All moved on.

And that was terrifying.

She hadn’t seen Carmilla, in person, in years. Not since…well. Not since that last Christmas.

She’d heard a few things here and there about her, from her Dad or from Lafontaine and really, it was never much but she knew enough now to know that Carmilla had well and truly moved on from her.

Which is fine.

It’s been seven years. She really never expected her to stay hung up on her forever. Laura had moved on too. It was fine. She was fine. They were both fine.

It just…hadn’t ended well. And really, does anybody look forward to seeing an ex?

Not that it _really_ mattered. She wasn’t going to be staying long anyway. A month, a month and a half tops. Just long enough to find another job in New York and get back there. Get back to travelling. Seeing the world.

Soon, they’re driving onto a familiar highway where the signs read, Styria, 34 miles. She feels her heart start to beat just a little bit faster and her palms start to sweat. _Deep breaths_ , she thinks to herself.  She can calm herself down. She knows herself well enough now to know how to do that. She closes her eyes and counts to five.

They pass the ‘Welcome to Styria’ sign sooner than Laura expects and she straightens her back.

She watches the familiar scenery pass her by. Everything looks the same. The ice cream shop. The florist. The Wal-Mart. It all looks the same. As they drive past, Laura swears that she’s eighteen again. She feels like she’s just graduated from high school with the world at her fingertips. She feels like nothing has changed at all.

Except, of course, it has.

They pull up in front of the house. The outside, like everything else in this place, looks exactly the same. Everything from the well-taken care of snow covered bushes in the front yard to the fading yellow paint and beautiful white shutters just _feels_ like home. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it until she saw it again. She opens the door of the car, slowly stepping out and she nearly steps right into a snow bank. She stares up at it for a moment, memories hitting her like ton of bricks.

She’s only shaken from her reverie when her Dad claps a hand on her shoulder. She looks over at him with a half-smile. He’s got sympathy in his eyes and it makes Laura’s stomach churn. How did she become the person that her parent pities? He squeezes her shoulder. “C’mon kiddo. Let’s get you inside. I’ll make you some cocoa and we can watch The Sound of Music.” She nods.

“Yeah, okay. That sounds nice.” She mumbles and her Dad wraps an arm around her shoulders. She leans into his side and lets him lead her into the house. He lets go of her shoulder and walks into the kitchen. Laura wanders into the back of the house. She stands in front of the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard. It’s covered in snow but she can picture how it looks, how it feels in the summer so clearly. How many summers she spent in the backyard, laying in the grass, cloud watching with Carmilla. How that backyard is where they had their first kiss.

-

**_July 4 th, 1994._ **

It’s warm.

Laura is wearing a blue dress with fireworks on it and really, she looks precious. Her hair is up in a ponytail and she’s sitting on her Mother’s lap. Her Mother’s knee is bouncing and it’s making Laura giggle. Her small, chubby fingers are reaching onto the plate of food sitting in front of her Mother. The carrots are supposed to be for her but she opts to grab a cookie instead. She takes a bite before anybody has a chance to take it away from her. “Laura! Sweetie, you’re not supposed to have dessert before we eat dinner!” Her mother scolds and Laura just looks at her with wide eyes and the cookie still in her mouth. With a small grin, her mother continues, “Fine. We just won’t tell your Father.” Laura smiles around her cookie and continues to eat it. From across the yard, she spots her friend from next door, Carmilla. She waves to her. Carmilla lifts a hand and waves back, though she’s still holding onto her Mother’s hand. Her grip on Carmilla is tight. So tight that there’s discoloration on her tiny arm. Her mother, a tall, statuesque woman, is looking around the backyard with disdain. Carmilla tries to tug her arm free, so she can go and talk to Laura, but before she lets go, her Mother pulls her in closer to her and bends down and says something, harshly, into her face. The little girl cringes, but finally she’s let go and she runs over to where Laura is sitting with her Mother. Laura, eager to hug her friend, leans down and nearly falls off of her Mother’s lap. “Whoa, watch yourself Lovebug.” She says, straightening out her leg so Laura can slide off. Finally, she’s able to properly throw her arms around Carmilla’s neck. She squeezes tightly.

“Hi Carm!” Laura yells excitedly, pulling back. Carmilla looks up at her shyly, through her bangs.

“Hi Laura.” She whispers and Laura grins, grabbing for her hand.

“Come on, come on! Let me show you my garden!” Laura squeals excitedly. Carmilla allows herself to be pulled from the middle of the party over to the edge of the house, where a garden of daffodils, lilies, and daisies are growing. “Mommy helped me plant these.” Laura says proudly, pointing at the daisies.

“They’re pretty.” Carmilla, again, whispers, looking down at them instead of looking at Laura, who is currently beaming. Laura, noticing that Carmilla looks….sad, plucks one of the daises from the ground. With unsteady hands, because after all, she is only five, she tucks the flower behind Carmilla’s ear. Looking up from the ground, Carmilla smiles tentatively.

“There! Now you’re pretty too.” Laura says, assuredly. Carmilla’s smile grows. Quickly, she leans in and gives Laura a quick peck on the lips. Color floods her pale cheeks immediately and she’s back to looking at the ground. Laura is grinning and she grabs Carmilla’s hand again.

“Thank you.” Carmilla says, with a little more volume and a more assured smile. Laura squeezes.

“Come on. Let’s go to the treehouse!” She exclaims, starting to run and pulling Carmilla along behind her.

-

They had been so innocent back then. They were only five with their whole lives in front of them. They hadn’t known anything about the world and the only thing that mattered was each other. They hadn’t thought about the future much, they’d only known that whatever happened, they would always be part of each other’s lives. It’s almost ironic how wrong they had been.

Her fingers have absentmindedly drifted up to the heart shaped locket hanging from her neck. She grips it tightly, inhaling and trying to steady her breath. A tear slips out of her eye and falls down cheek, hitting her tightly gripped fist. She shakes her head. No. She can’t cry over this anymore. She’d cried herself out over this years ago. She’s got no more tears left in herself to cry over Carmilla.

Her Dad pulls her away from the backdoor with a hand to her shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s go into the living room.” He says, guiding her away from the door. She nods. Her head is such a mess. She knows that she should be upset about her wedding, about losing her job, but all she can find herself thinking about now that she’s back in this house is Carmilla. Maybe it’s because the best thing she’s ever known in this house was Carmilla.

She folds herself into the corner of the couch and she takes the cup of cocoa from her Dad with a small smile. She cradles it in her hands, smiling gently down at the whipped cream smiley face. Her Dad slides the DVD in and he sits down next to her. She scoots over next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He turns his head to kiss the top of her forehead. “I’m glad you’re home, baby.” He whispers and she bites down on her bottom lip because she’s tearing up again. She sniffles and tries to pretend that she’s not crying.

“Me too, Dad.” She whispers and she hopes she sounds convincing enough.

-

Carmilla is holding her phone in front her, doubled over with laughter. In front of her, Thea is dressed in a black dress that is entirely too big for her and a long, pink feather boa. She’s got a tiara on her head and she’s singing into the blunt side of Carmilla’s hairbrush. In the background, Anaconda plays and Thea is singing along as best as she can, shaking her hips back and forth. She’s reveling in the attention of being recorded, something Carmilla knows well about the kid. Thea likes attention, especially when that attention involves being immortalized onto the memory card of Carmilla’s phone and probably social media.

The song wraps up and Thea takes a bow. Carmilla laughs. “C’mere monster.” She say, outstretching her arms. Thea runs into them, jumping onto her lap. “You are ridiculous, kid. Your parents are going to kill me for teaching you that song.” She says and Thea shrugs.

“Mommy sings that song in the shower all the time.” She comments with a smirk. Now _that’s_ a hilarious mental image. Carmilla turns her head toward her.

“Think you could get that recorded for me?” She asks and Thea gets a devilish glint in her eye. She leans in, putting both of her hands on Carmilla’s cheeks, pushing them together.

“If you let me have another piece of cake, we’ll talk.” She says and Carmilla smiles, though Thea’s hands are still smooshing her face. Thea giggles. “You look like a fish!” She says through her laughter. Carmilla sucks her cheeks into her mouth, puckering her lips into an actual fish face. She moves them up down, which only makes Thea’s laughter increase. “You’re so silly, Auntie Carm.” She whispers, letting go of her cheeks and leaning against her chest. Carmilla rests her chin on top of Thea’s head, bringing a hand up and stroking her hair. Thea yawns against her chest.

“Worn out already? It’s only 3!” Carmilla exclaims and Thea shoots up, glaring at Carmilla, who sticks her tongue out at her. “Baby.” She says to Thea, who sticks her tongue out back.

“Old lady!” Thea says back to Carmilla, who gasps.

“Oh, you wound me!” Carmilla says dramatically, leaning back fully against the couch and throwing her hand over her eyes. “How can I go on? My six year old goddaughter thinks _I’m an old lady._ ” Carmilla says sarcastically and Thea blows a raspberry at her. “You’re going to get old too someday. You won’t be 3 feet tall forever, munchkin.” Carmilla says, some part of her aching because she remembers what six was like for her. The good parts, and the bad parts. She wishes that you could stay young forever. Stay innocent. She’d do anything for Thea to stay like this forever. Not let the world jade her like the world jaded Carmilla.

Thea wrinkles her nose. “No I won’t. I’ll _never_ get old. I’m gonna stay young and pretty forever!” She says and for now, Carmilla lets her have it.

“You _will_ always be pretty, kid. You’re lucky you look like your Mom. If you looked like your Dad….” She pauses and makes a face. “You’d be outta luck.” She finishes and Thea looks contemplative for a moment before nodding her head.

“Mama is much prettier than Daddy.” She says seriously and Carmilla chuckles.

“You’re a trip.” Carmilla says, bouncing her legs so Thea slides off her legs. Carmilla stands up and says, “C’mon. Let’s get that cake.”

“Yes!” Thea exclaims, dragging out the ‘s’ sound with a slight lisp. She runs ahead of Carmilla into the kitchen. She sighs.

She’s glad she’s had Thea with her today. Thea always helps her to stop thinking. Her head doesn’t race like it normally does. She’s like a really cheap form of therapy. Therapy that eats a lot of her food.

She’s just cut Thea a piece of the New Year’s cake from the night before when her phone rings. She hands Thea, who is sitting on a tall stool at the kitchen peninsula, a fork before walking into the living room to pick up her phone from where it rests on the arm of the couch. It’s Kirsch. She slides her finger across the screen to answer it. “What’s up, Wilson?” She asks, in lieu of a hello.

“Yo, don’t call me that Karnstein _._ ” He replies and Carmilla rolls his eyes.

“It’s your name, dipshit.” She says though really, she’s only doing it because she knows it annoys him. “You coming to get the kid soon?” She asks, figuring that’s why he’s calling. There’s a pause.

“Uh, yeah. We’re on our way now. Do you want anything? We can pick up Chinese or something.” He says and really, that tips her off that something is clearly wrong. Kirsch never offers to buy her anything.

“Alright, what’s going on? You barely want to spend money on yourself, let alone me.” She asks suspiciously.

“You want the Chinese or not, Karnstein?” He asks again and Carmilla glares suspiciously into the receiver.

“Not until you tell me what’s happening.” She says, maybe just a little bit petulantly. He sighs.

“We were driving around town…you know, doing what we do. Oh, we drove by that ice cream place and they have a promo deal happening this week so we should totally go and grab a cone-”

“Get on with it.” Carmilla interrupts, her palms feeling sweaty and her heartbeat speeding up. He’s avoiding.

“Right. So uh, we saw somebody. While we were out. Just through a car window so really, we’re not sure if it’s who we think it is but-”

“I’m going to crawl through this phone and strangle you if you don’t just spit it out, Kirsch.” She growls through clenched teeth.

“Laura. We saw Laura.” He finally says and _oh_.

That is _not_ what she expected him to say.


	3. my sweetest downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW i’m so sorry for the long wait! school and other things took my attention away but now that i’ve got the motivation and the time, hopefully the wait between updates will be much shorter than three months this time. thanks for sticking with me and i hope you enjoy!
> 
> CONTENT WARNING FOR ALCOHOL ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER.

It probably isn’t the smartest idea, chugging tequila until she feels her throat go numb, but it’s all she can think to do.

She walks Thea down the stairs to meet her parents and she doesn’t look either of them in the eye. Kirsch tries to get out of the car but Carmilla is turned around and walking back up the stairs before he even has a chance to open the door. She deadbolts the lock so nobody can get in.

She pulls the tequila from the top shelf, where she’d made Ell stash it because she knew that the only way she’d ever find the energy to get it down from there was if she really needed it. She sits at the kitchen island, unopened bottle in front of her, tapping her fingers on the counter. She hears the echo of Kirsch’s words over and over again, floating in her head. _Laura. We saw Laura. Laura. We saw Laura. Laura. We saw Laura._ And it shouldn’t affect her. It shouldn’t.

She doesn’t care about Laura anymore.

She has Ell.

So she doesn’t _have_ to care about Laura anymore.

And really, she thinks it’s just the surprise of it all. Laura hasn’t been back here in years. Not since. Well. Not since that last Christmas. Styria has always been hers. And she’s just protective of that. Her territory.

(Fuck, who is she kidding? Laura has as much of an effect her now as she did ten years ago. That was never going to change.)

She leans her elbows on the table. She stares at the bottle and she wonders if it’s worth it to drink it.

She’d never gotten sober. She’d never gone through AA or taken the 12 steps to recovery, but she’s not stupid enough to say that she’s never had problems with alcohol. She did. She used alcohol to numb herself to the world around her. It was her biggest coping mechanism. And she _can_ drink without overdoing it. As long as she drinks without the intention of losing herself, she’s fine.

But that’s what she wants to do. Tonight, if she puts that bottle to her lips, she wants to drown in it.

But she made promises. She swore she’d never do that again. She’d never, ever drink to lose her mind again. It was the only way she was allowed to be in Thea’s life. If she stopped wrecking her life with the bottle every single night.

And she did. She never drinks if she’s feeling bad because she knows she won’t stop. She knows now what her limits are.

And tonight she wants to ignore them. Tonight, she wants to drink as much as her body will allow and she wants to forget those three fucking words that felt like a wall of bricks crashing into her and ruining everything.

But she’d be breaking promises.

Her fingers are shaking and she grabs the neck of the bottle.

And then she takes her fingers away.

She’s not sure how long she stands in front of the island, staring at the bottle, and wondering if the numbness is worth all of the broken promises.

And then there’s hard knocking at the door and Carmilla straightens her back. She walks over to the heavy metal door and she slides it open.

It’s Kirsch. Her eyes flutter closed and she sighs. “What are you doing here?” She asks exasperatedly and he pushes past her, into the apartment. He goes right for the bottle on the counter and picks it up by the neck. He turns to her and his eyes are lit up with a fire Carmilla hasn’t seen in a long time. One that’s always been directed at her. One she’s come to read as a cross between anger and fear.

“Is this what you were gonna do? Were you going to drink yourself stupid because your ex is back in town? I thought we were past that, Karnstein,” He says and he’s _yelling_ and Carmilla flinches.

“What the fuck does it matter to you?” She spits back and Kirsch rolls his eyes.

“Cut the shit, Carmilla. Stop pretending I don’t know you. Stop pretending I don’t care about you. It’s bullshit. So do yourself a favor and fucking talk to me,” He says and she wishes, not for the first time, that her first instinct when Kirsch shows concern for her wasn’t to shut him down and dismiss just how much he cares for her.

“Yeah. Maybe I was going to drink it,” She says, crossing her arms across her chest. Kirsch’s nostrils flare and he shakes his head.

“Not anymore,” He says and walks over to the sink. He untwists the cap and pours the entire bottle of tequila down the drain. He puts the empty bottle next to the sink and he turns back toward Carmilla, his hands gripping the edge of the sink. “Wanna talk to me now?”

“No,” She says and she sounds like a petulant child. Like Thea when she doesn’t get her way. Kirsch rolls his eyes.

“Don’t care. C’mon, Karnstein. We’re gonna talk,” He says and walks toward her, slinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in close to him. She lets herself relax into his side. They walk to the bedroom and Carmilla crashes onto her bed, folding her legs beneath her. Kirsch pulls her desk chair up and straddles it, crossing his arms and resting them on the top of the chair. They’re silent and Carmilla knows he’s waiting for her to start.

Her eyes close and she clenches them and she tries to figure out what to say. How to articulate how she feels. She’s surprised and she’s….confused, she knows that much, but she doesn’t know how to say that without making it seem like her heart is back with Laura. It isn’t, she knows that.

She doesn’t love Laura anymore.

But Laura, and thinking about Laura, brings back too many bad memories. Brings up every reason she’d started using alcohol as cheap therapy to begin with.

So maybe it’s something like Stockholm Syndrome, putting her back in that headspace.

“She can’t hurt you anymore, Mills, you know that,” Kirsch says, breaking the silence and Carmilla sighs.

“I don’t care about her anymore, Kirsch. And you have to care about someone for them to have the power to hurt you,” She explains, looking down at her hands and picking at the nail polish on her fingers.

“You still went right for the bottle,” Kirsch says and Carmilla shrugs.

“Instinct, I guess,” She mumbles and she’s never really been one for talking about how she feels or why she does the things that she does. She doesn’t analyze herself. She never has. She knows her actions have consequences but she prefers not to think of them until they’re relevant. Or until she’s being punished for them. Kirsch moves off of the chair and he sits down on the bed next to her. Carmilla leans into his shoulder.

“Come to me first. If you feel like shit and you wanna drink, come to me instead,” He murmurs and Carmilla nods against his shoulder. “I don’t ever wanna see you back where you were five years ago, okay?” He says.

“You know I promised you I wouldn’t ever go there again,” She says, lifting her head, and her tone is harsh.

“Hey chill out, I know you did. It’s just….that night was the scariest night of my life,” Kirsch says and it’s one of those rare moments with them where Carmilla isn’t pushing him away and he’s not making an inappropriate joke about something.

And Carmilla knows exactly what night he’s referring to.

-

**_February 14th, 2009._ **

It’s raining.

The sky is dark, though the moon is shining brightly above her and she’s got a bottle of rum in her hands that’s nearly finished now.

She’s been drinking since just after dinner and she hasn’t stopped. She'd gotten this bottle, completely full and unopened, earlier in the day and it’s nearly gone now. She’s got an old picture of she and Laura from last year opened on her phone. Laura’s pressed up against her, kissing her cheek. Carmilla is grinning from ear to ear and she can’t remember the last time she smiled like that.

Last time she had a reason to smile like that.

She’s sitting on a curb, god knows where, and she’s mostly drank herself numb. She can’t feel her fingertips. She can’t feel the cold wind. She can’t really even feel the movement of her chattering jaw.

But her head’s still a fucking mess and that means she hasn’t had quite enough yet. She knows she’s had enough once her mind goes clear and she can’t think of anything else besides how warm the liquor makes her feel.

She’s not sure when she started crying, but there are tears falling down her cheeks. Her cheeks, which are extraordinarily pale, even for her. Her breathing is irregular but it’s not something she’s paying close attention to.

She puts the bottle to her lips and throws another, large, swig back. She swallows and she doesn’t feel the burn of the alcohol anymore.

Her body is shaking and she thinks that maybe that last sip did her in because her stomach starts to churn. She has to lean over and once she does, her stomach contracts, spilling all of its contents into a pile next to her.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She pulls her knees up to her chest and she rests her cheek on them, watching a few straggling cars drive by her.

She wants Laura.

She wishes Laura were here to wrap her arms around her and kiss the tracks the tears have traveled, like she used to whenever Carmilla cried.

But Laura’s _gone_ and she’s not coming back for her. Not this time. She’s lost her.

And now she doesn’t have anybody.

Her head is starting to feel heavy and she can’t quite keep her eyes open.

Maybe this is it. Maybe she’s finally drank herself numb.

She closes her eyes and she swears as she does, she hears somebody calling her name.

-

He’s in the middle of a game of Grand Theft Auto when his cell phone rings. It’s a number he doesn’t recognize but he figures if someone’s calling him at nearly midnight, it’s probably important. He’s chewing on popcorn when he answers the phone with a muffled, “Hello.”

He nearly spits it out though when he hears Mr. Hollis’ worried voice on the other end of the receiver. “Wilson, have you seen Carmilla?” He asks and he’s speaking quickly, very clearly worried. He stops chewing. He drops the controller and sits straight up.

“Not since yesterday. Something wrong Mr. Hollis?” He asks and he knows that there is. There’s no reason he would be calling him if there wasn’t.

“She’s gone, Wilson,” He says and Kirsch feels his blood go cold. “She disappeared before dinner, with a bottle of rum she took from my cabinet, and I haven’t seen her since,” He says, panic in his voice. “I’m going to go look for her. Thank you,” He says and Kirsch can tell he’s about to hang up the phone and he’s already halfway standing.

“I’ll help you out. I know where she goes,” He says and Kirsch hears the sigh of relief through the phone.

“Thank you,” He says and then the line goes dead.

He’s not sure when, or how, he got so close to Carmilla but he has and for some reason, he gives a shit about her wellbeing. And he knows it’s a bad sign when she disappears with a bottle of liquor.

….On Valentine’s Day. Shit.

He pulls a sweatshirt on and shoves his cell phone in his pocket. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach and he’s pretty sure that doesn’t mean anything good.

He checks the cemetery first. It’s close to his apartment and there’s a chance, however slim, that she went there. She has a grave she visits at least once a month and he knows her tendency to go while drunk is high. She’s not there and mentally, he runs through the list of places she’s called him from, drunk out of her mind.

He’s halfway to the high school when he spots a figure sitting on the curb. Her hood is up and she’s got her knees tucked against her, looking as small as a toddler. And then she starts to fall.

He sprints across the street, not looking both ways and nearly getting hit by a car, over to her.

She’s lying flat on the concrete and her eyes are closed. He kneels next to her. Oh god. What do they do in Law & Order when they find someone unconscious? Check a pulse? Oh god. His hands are shaking as he moves them down to Carmilla’s wrist. It takes him a few seconds but eventually he finds a pulse, or at least he thinks it’s a pulse. “Karnstein? Karnstein?” He hits her cheek gently, hoping to get _something_ from her. Anything. A movement, a grunt, anything to prove she's still in there. “Carmilla? Come on, you need to wake up,” He says and with a shaky hand he takes his phone from his pocket and dials Mr. Hollis. “Hey….I found her. She passed out. She’s...she’s breathing but she’s not moving,” He says and his voice is shaking.

Everything is shaking. He barely registers anything that Mr. Hollis is saying, besides that he’s on his way. With as gentle of a grip as he can get, he moves Carmilla’s head into his lap. He moves her hair off of her forehead. “You’re going to be fine, Karnstein. You’re a stubborn asshole, okay? This isn’t how you get to go. Not like this. Not yet,” He whispers.

And he wants to believe it, he does, but she’s so pale. Even for her. There’s a pile of vomit next to where she’s sitting and it looks too fresh to be anybody elses.

And she isn’t moving. He can’t wake her up. God. She just needs to open her eyes. Or move. Or something. Anything.

The silence of the night is doing nothing for his nerves, or for the sinking feeling in his stomach that says he’s about to lose her, so he starts to hum. Anything that comes into his head. Anything to fill the silence.

Mr. Hollis pulls up a few minutes later and Kirsch watches the color flood from his face when he sees Carmilla’s limp body in his lap. Kirsch moves her head, gently, to the ground. He moves himself so he’s positioned to pick her up. He’s got an arm beneath her knees and her midback. “Put her….put her in the back,” He says, swallowing the lump in his throat. Kirsch nods.

He puts her in the backseat and then climbs in himself. He puts her head back into his lap, humming all the way to the hospital.

-

**_Present Day._ **

She doesn’t remember much about that day, or night, but she remembers waking up in the hospital, connected to an IV with Kirsch and Mr. Hollis sitting next to her and she couldn’t tell who looked more terrified. Kirsch wrapped her in a bear hug and told her never scare him like that again.

It was the moment she knew that somehow, the big brute had wormed his way into her heart and she had done the same to him. And that no matter what happened, they were in it together. Because there wasn’t anybody else in Carmilla’s life who would have walked through the town in the rain to find her. Nobody.

And she’s never been able to shake the look of utter terror in Kirsch’s eyes from her memory.

He pulls her tightly against his side. “You gotta take care of yourself, Karnstein. I’m here to support you, so is Rick, but you’re your own first line of defense,” He says and Carmilla wrinkles her nose.

“Can’t you keep the sports metaphors out of the heartfelt moment?” She says and Kirsch snorts.

“Sports metaphors are _always_ relevant, Mills,” He says and she laughs. She goes quiet for a moment.

“Thank you,” She mutters against his shoulder.

“For what?” He asks.

“Coming back,” She replies, curling even further into his side.

He’s the only one who ever has.

-

Laura doesn’t sleep.

The bed feels too small for her now.

She hasn’t been in this room since she was 19 and she can tell. Her Dad hasn’t touched the space, tried to convert into home gym or a sweat lodge, like her college friends told her their parents did. No, he left everything as it was the last time she was here. Her vanity is still cluttered with old bobby pins and the brush she forgot home. It’s like as soon as she stepped into the house, she stepped into a time machine that took her back six years.

The room’s the same but she isn’t.

And maybe that’s why she feels like she doesn’t fit in the old grooves of the bed like she used to.

(She’s different now, she knows that, but she figured that coming home would feel….you know, like coming home.)

She’s wearing an old t-shirt that she found in her closet, from high school, because she hasn’t bothered to unpack anything quite yet. It barely reaches the tops of her thighs.

She lays in bed, covers pulled up to her chin, and wills sleep to come. She tries to imagine that this is just another trip for work. That it’s just temporary. Knowing it wasn’t permanent always helped her sleep when she was sleeping in an uncomfortable bed away from home. That soon she’d be able to be back in her own bed in just a few more sleeps.

But there was no more of that. Because this….this is home again. And she’s got nowhere else to go and nothing to look forward to.

She sits up, running a hand through her knotted hair. She tosses the blankets off and dangles her feet over the edge of the bed. Maybe a mug of warm milk will help.

As lightly as she can, she walks out of the room, careful to avoid the floorboards she knows are squeaky.

She’s halfway to the stairwell when she pauses in front of the open door next to her bedroom.

She shouldn’t look at it. She knows she shouldn’t. It wouldn’t help her sleep.

But she can’t help it. She looks into the open door and she’s looking straight at a window. A window that’s sheathed by a pale blue curtain. She takes a few steps closer until she’s leaning against the frame of the door.

The room, much like her own, looks the same as the last time she’d seen it, which surprises her a bit more than she’d care to admit. She knows Carmilla spent more time here after their breakup than her Father had told her initially and after a while, she stopped asking.

She takes a step into the room and it’s like unlocking a vault the moment that she does. She closes her eyes and in her ears she hears faint echoes of laughter, her own and Carmilla’s. She hears the faraway sound of promises and  ‘I love yous’, whispered against the collarbone of the sleeping girl beside her. She sees the sunshine streaming through the window and waking her up, far earlier than she’d wanted, but waking up to see Carmilla’s peaceful face next to hers made the early mornings worth it.

And then she opens her eyes and all she sees is the darkened, empty room.

The yellow pillow that Carmilla had grown so fond of when they were teenagers, and subsequently had stolen from her, is missing from the bed, leaving only one pillow there. Laura walks over to it, turning it around gently in her hands. She folds back the outer edge of the pillow case, exposing the seam, where a hand stitched heart lies, next to the initials ‘LH + CK’ that are messily sewn in red thread. She smiles at the memory of her failed attempt at a heartfelt gift.

-

**_November 22nd, 2005._ **

It’s a warm day for November. The window is opened just a crack and the wind is blowing the curtains gently off the window. Carmilla is lounging against her pillows, flipping through a book that she’d found on the table, presumably a gift from Laura’s Dad.

Laura herself is fiddling with a string on her jeans, biting down on her bottom lip. Carmilla sighs, putting the book down on her lap. “Alright Hollis, either you chill out and stop fidgeting or you get off my bed,” Carmilla says and Laura sighs.

“Sorry,” She murmurs. Carmilla raises an eyebrow and sits up, straightening her back. She leans forward, resting her hand on Laura’s knee.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asks, looking genuinely curious, and mildly concerned. Laura’s eyes are cast down at Carmilla’s hand on her knee. Then she looks up, plastering an incredibly obviously fake smile on her face.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me. Just enjoy your gift,” Laura says, continuing to smile. Carmilla tilts her head and scoots closer to Laura so their knees are touching. She leans in, nudging Laura’s shoulder with her nose.

“Tell me,” She says and Laura shakes her head.

“You’ll be mad,” Laura murmurs and Carmilla looks up.

“What, did you eat the last of my chocolate?” Carmilla jokes and Laura shakes her head. She’s got tears pricking at the backs of her eyes now and she sniffles. “Whoa hey, no tears,” Carmilla says, lifting a hand and wiping her cheeks. “Tell me what happened,” She says softly and _that_ doesn’t help the tears because Carmilla’s voice is so soft and so caring and Laura knows the only person she talks to like this is her and she can’t bear to disappoint her and hear that voice harden. Laura’s bottom lip quivers.

“Y-your gift,” Laura says through tears, though she has to pause.

“What about it?” Carmilla asks, prodding her to continue.

“It’s not here. I-I tried to find the perfect thing because it’s your 16th and it’s special, but I didn’t until a few days ago and now it’s not here,” Laura finally spills and more tears spill down her cheeks.

And Carmilla laughs.

Laura hiccups. “Why are you laughing?” She says through her tears and the laughter continues. Carmilla leans in, resting her head against Laura’s forehead.

“You scared the _fuck_ out of me. I don’t care about my gift,” She pauses, looking down at Laura’s lips, “I’ve already got everything I need,” She finishes, a soft smile on her face that makes Laura’s heart skip a beat. Carmilla has a hand resting on Laura’s cheek and Laura turns into it, smiling.

“I wanted to get you something nice,” She says in a voice just above a whisper. Carmilla’s still got that half-smile on her face when she leans in, pressing her lips against Laura’s. Carmilla’s fingers move up Laura’s leg and her hand comes to rest on her thigh. She pulls back, leaving Laura’s lips still parted and her eyes closed.

“You know, I think I have _some_ ideas about how you can make it up to me…” Carmilla trails off, placing a kiss on Laura’s collarbone. Laura licks her lips.

“Carm, my Dad’s home,” She only halfheartedly complains. She feels Carmilla’s smirk against her neck.

“So? I know how to be quiet,” She says, kissing up the side of Laura’s neck. Laura pulls back, just slightly so she can look Carmilla in the eye.

“Only because it’s your birthday,” She whispers and Carmilla’s smirk grows. She rises to her knees and puts her hands on either side of Laura’s hips, guiding her down as she hovers over her.

Maybe this is a better gift for her anyway.

-

They’re eating cake in bed when Laura remembers her 7th period project.

She leaps off the bed, nearly dropping the piece of cake frosting side up on the comforter. She leaves the room, leaving Carmilla staring after her rather gobsmacked.

She returns just a few moments later, her backpack dangling from her fingers behind her back. She’s got a smile on her face and she says, “So I was in 7th period today and you know how I have study hall in the home and careers room?” She pauses and Carmilla nods, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes full of confusion. “Well, Mrs. Hess let me use some stuff so…” She trails off and from her backpack, she pulls a white pillowcase. Carmilla raises an eyebrow.

“A pillowcase?” She says, rather amusedly. Laura grins and she drops her bag, moving back toward Carmilla and hopping on the bed. She rests on her knees and softly, she pulls back the edge of the pillowcase. Sitting just below the seam in bright red thread are their initials, sewn in next a….pretty messily sewn heart. Laura shrugs.

“It was all I could do in 45 minutes,” She says timidly and when she looks up, Carmilla’s got a face-splitting grin on her face that’s pretty contagious and spreads to Laura’s face quite quickly. Carmilla reaches for her face with both hands and closes the gap between them, kissing her hard.

“I love you,” She murmurs against Laura’s lips. Laura smiles.

“I love you too,” She pauses and pulls back, “Happy Birthday.”

-

**_Present Day._ **

Carmilla had put it on the pillow immediately.

She’s not sure if she’s...sad that it’s still here or if she feels something else entirely. There’s a lump in her stomach that she can’t quite put a label to and maybe sad is the most fitting word she can think of.

She pulls the pillow flush against her chest and buries her nose into it.

It smells like dust.

She’s not surprised. This room has gone untouched for too long for anything in it to still carry any scent.

(And really, she wasn’t expecting anything anyway. Really. She wasn’t.)

She feels like she’s 16 again. Sneaking into Carmilla’s room in the middle of the night while her Dad’s asleep. Except this time there’s no warm body for her to snuggle up next to.

There’s just an empty bed that’s full of memories and a pillow that doesn’t really smell like anything anymore.

But still, she hugs it to her chest and against her better judgment, lays down.

Within minutes, she’s fast asleep.

-

Rick Hollis wakes up at 6am, just as the sun is rising.

It takes him a few minutes to remember that his daughter is home now so he can’t quite stomp around like he’s used to. He picks up his reading glasses and ties his robe together. He looks at the family portrait hanging on the wall of his bedroom. Laura is seven and his wife is smiling that beautiful, contagious smile that made him fall in love in the first place. The tug at his heart is minimal now. It’s been 15 years. After that long, the pain starts to dull and he’s come to accept that it’s never going to go away. He brings his fingers up to the glass, touching his fingers to Charlotte’s mouth. He smiles. “I wish you were here,” He says and then drops his hand.

(And that’s something he does every day - not that he’d be willing to admit to it to anybody in fear they may think he's off his rocker. But it’s a comfort. Knowing that wherever she is, she might hear him and stay with him.)

He’s got a book in his hands and he’s halfway to the staircase when he notices a lump in a place there isn’t supposed to be a lump. He pauses in front of the doorway.

Laura is asleep on Carmilla’s old bed. Hugging that pillow with the case Laura had sewn their initials into. The tug at his heart is harder this time and he purses his lips. It’s not the first time he’s caught her sleeping there but it is the first time she’s been alone. It shocks him slightly, just how strange it is to see Laura in this bed by herself. He’s used to seeing a head of black hair nuzzled against her shoulder.

But that was years ago now. And he ought to not be so….attached to those memories. They’re distant and far away now. Laura needs to be his focus. Now that she’s home and he can clearly see that she’s not very happy.

(And though, Laura is his daughter by blood, Carmilla is his daughter by circumstance and that means just as much.)

He leans against the frame of the door, watching her chest rise and fall as she sleeps peacefully. There’s a small smile on his face and it hits him then just how much he’s missed her. He knows he had to let her go, let her explore the world and live her own life, but it was nice to have her here with him again even if the circumstances were less than ideal.

She looks like the same girl he hugged and let go when she was 18 when she sleeps peacefully here. Her face is relaxed and there’s none of the stress or tears he saw on her face last night here at all. She’s his beautiful, wonderful little girl in this moment. She always is, but especially now. When she’s sleeping and there are no demons to plague her.

He walks in as quietly as he can. He pulls the blanket sitting at the edge of the bed up to cover her shoulders. She shifts, just slightly, “No, Carm,” She murmurs, so lowly that Rick isn’t sure he even heard her correctly. Her eyes don’t open and she doesn’t say anything else so he’s sure that she was just sleep talking. He walks out of the room, closing the door lightly behind him. As he finally pads down the stairs to drink his morning coffee, he decides that he’ll pretend he never heard her when she wakes up.

-

Kirsch falls asleep with half a donut on his lap.

He wakes up with it still there. Carmilla is sleeping against his shoulder. And she looks so peaceful, so….well, he wouldn’t use the word innocent because he does know her, but she looks much less jaded than she does when she’s awake.

He glances at the clock. It’s nearly 8 and he’s sure that Danny is probably ready to kill him because he told her he’d be back before midnight. He nudges Carmilla off his shoulder, sitting up and laughing as Carmilla’s face scrunches as her head hits the pillow. She groans, her eyes opening. She smirks when she sees Kirsch sitting up next to her. “Well, never thought I’d see the day when I woke up next to you,” She jokes, her voice still peppered with sleep. Kirsch rolls his eyes.

“You’d be damn lucky, Karnstein,” He replies and now it’s Carmilla’s turn to roll her eyes. She kicks her legs off the side of the bed, stretching and trying to straighten out her clothes which are rumpled from sleep.

“I think we both know you’d the lucky one, pup,” She says, looking over her shoulder with a smile. He snorts.

“Dealing with your high maintenance ass is the opposite of lucky,” He replies sarcastically and Carmilla reaches over and smacks him on the shoulder, which he pretends hurt him a lot more than it actually did.

“Ass,” She murmurs and Kirsch shrugs,

“Wench,” He shoots back and Carmilla smiles, standing up.

“Don’t you need to get home to your wife?” She says and Kirsch wrinkles his nose. He hasn’t checked his phone yet and he’s sure it’s probably flooded with text messages and missed calls from Danny.

“Not my wife,” He mutters as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. It’s barely got 5% battery and just as he expected, there’s 6 messages from Danny and 3 missed calls. He holds the phone up, gesturing to the low battery meter and raises an eyebrow. Carmilla makes an absent minded gesture with her hand which Kirsch takes as permission to use her phone charger. She walks out of the bedroom and into the kitchen and Kirsch follows.

“You want coffee?” She asks and Kirsch nods. “There’s a 7-11 down the street. Go, treat yourself,” She continues, looking over her shoulder with a smile. He’s close enough to lift his foot and kick her gently on the calf. “Keep your athlete's foot away from me,” Carmilla mutters, turning the coffee pot on. She turns around and lifts herself onto the counter. “I can smell your feet from here, put some shoes on,” Carmilla says, waving her hand in front of her face as if to waft the scent away from her.

“And I can smell your rotting heart but nothing you can do to cover that rank smell up,” He retorts, lifting his foot up as far as he can get it (which is only to about Carmilla’s knee). She, on the other hand, has the advantage of being on the counter, so she swings her foot and kicks him lightly on the side.

“Hey, shut your mouth or I’ll call your wife and tell her you spent the night at the strip club,” She mocks and Kirsch’s mouth pinches together because now, Carmilla’s operating under the impression that Danny would even care if he spent the night at a strip club. And she wouldn’t. She doesn’t care much about what he does. He’s not stupid enough to believe otherwise. Not after so long. He shrugs.

“She wouldn’t believe you I left all my singles at home,” He jokes and he looks up. He can see the pity in Carmilla’s eyes and maybe it’s because Carmilla is the _last_ person in the world he wants pity from, he pushes away from the counter he’s leaning on and walks back into the bedroom. He’s got enough charge on his phone to make a phone call so he presses Danny’s contact and puts the phone to his ear.

Danny picks up after the third ring and the first thing she says is _not_ “Where have you been?” like maybe he was expecting (or perhaps, hoping). Instead she says, “Is she okay?” And she’s talking about Carmilla and he smiles.

“Hello to you too, Lawrence,” He says and he can practically hear Danny’s eyes rolling (or maybe he’s just so familiar with her reactions to him by now that he just knows).

“Yeah, hi, Kirsch,” She says, “Back to my initial question. Is she okay?” Danny asks and he supposes he should be grateful that she’s concerned about Carmilla because in the beginning, they could barely stand being in the same room as each other without getting at each others throats.

-

**_July 28th, 2009._ **

The sun is hot and Kirsch has just about bought out the store of all their brands of popsicles. He’s not sure which one Danny will even want but he figures it’s better to have too many than not enough. That’s been his experience with her whole pregnancy. As long as he covers all his bases, there’s no way he can get this wrong.

He’s got the paper bag in his arms as he walks up the staircase to his apartment. He’s got beads of sweat dripping down his face and he swears that when he gets his own house, the only thing he wants is good air conditioning. And a good sound system. But mostly air conditioning.

He turns onto the landing and sitting outside of his door is Carmilla, messing around on her phone. She looks up and there’s relief in her eyes. “Fucking finally. Your psychopath of a girlfriend slammed the door in my face,” Carmilla practically growls and Kirsch’s eyes widen. Oh fuck.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” He mumbles and Carmilla rolls her eyes.

“Right. I forgot about your fucked up little dynamic,” She mutters and she takes a step toward Kirsch. “Whatever. I just want my fucking controller. I left it here a few nights ago but Ronald McDonald in there won’t let me in for two fucking seconds,” She says, raising her voice during the last half of the sentence, surely so Danny could hear her through the door.

“I fucking heard you, Elvira,” Danny yells back and Kirsch flinches. Carmilla opens her mouth to respond and Kirsch reaches a hand out.

“Yo, no. Don’t say anything,” He says through his teeth, “She’s pregnant and all hormonal and stuff. She might kill you,” He says and Carmilla shrugs. She smiles, baring her teeth.

“I’d love to see her try,” Carmilla nearly hisses and Kirsch is pretty sure that a few months ago, he’d be terrified of her. But he knows her now and even though it’s only been a few months, he knows that her bark is much, much worse than her bite (even if her bite does hurt - he would know. She totally bit him once during a game of Mario Kart).

“Chill out, Karnstein. Stay out here, I’ll get the controller,” He mutters and he finally pushes the door open. Danny is sitting on the couch, legs spread and belly protruding. She’s wearing a red dress that he thinks his Mom gave to her and she’s fanning herself with her hands. There’s a fan blowing hard directly on her face and the windows are wide open but apparently that’s not good enough. Her eyes are hard and she’s glaring and Kirsch is very familiar with Danny’s look. It’s the one that made him attracted to her in the first place.

“Did you finally get rid of your lap dog?” Danny nearly growls and Kirsch rolls his eyes.

“You know, she doesn’t have much of a dog like personality. More like a cat if you ask me,” Kirsch says and watches fire flash in Danny’s eyes.

“I don’t care what kind of house pet she is, just get her out of here,” Danny exclaims and Kirsch turns to put the bag on the counter.

“Chill out, she’s not even in here,” He says, taking a box of fudgsicles out of the bag.

“Kirsch I swear to god if you tell me to chill out one more time, I’ll tell everyone you made me kill the spider,” She says from her spot on the couch and Kirsch freezes.

“You wouldn’t,” He says, turning around slowly. Danny’s smirking and she’s got a hand resting on her belly. Kirsch’s nostrils flare. “Fine, whatever,” He mumbles and he’s only little bit mad at himself for giving into her. She’s pregnant. She’s allowed to win sometimes.

“No wonder your apartment's so warm. Your girlfriend's full of hot air,” Carmilla says from somewhere that is most definitely not the hallway where he left her.

“I’m not dating him,” Danny groans, throwing her head back and it only feels a little bit like a punch in the gut that her insistence that they’re not together trumps her need to ignore Carmilla.

“Whatever you say, Raggedy Anne. Whatever. You. Say,” She says with a smirk and Kirsch swears he hears Danny growl. “Aw what’s the matter? Can’t get up and get me?” Carmilla mock coos at her and Kirsch steps in between them.

“Karnstein. Shut it,” He says. “Stay here while I get your controller. I mean it,” He says and Carmilla rolls her eyes but she crosses her arms and makes no effort to move. He finds it quickly. It’s still attached to the xbox so he unplugs it, wraps the cord around the middle, and tosses it to to Carmilla.

“What the fuck, Kirsch?” She exclaims while Danny snickers from her space on the couch. He glares at her.

“You have your controller. You can go now,” He says and Carmilla’s face falls, though only for a second, and then she’s got that ever present and very familiar sneer back on her face.

“Fine. See you later,” She mutters and she turns and walks out without another word.

“Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out,” Danny yells and Kirsch turns his glare on her now. She shrugs. Carmilla leaves the door open and he has to slam it shut behind her. “It’s like dealing with a toddler,” Danny mumbles, her brows furrowed. Kirsch sighs.

“Yeah, well. She’s _my_ toddler,” He says and it’s only after the words are already out of his mouth that he realizes how strange they sound. Danny’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Something I should know about?” She asks, amusedly and Kirsch walks over to the counter where the box of fudgsicles is still resting. He opens it and pulls two from the box. He sits down next to Danny and hands her one of them.

“You know what I mean,” He says and she sighs.

“Well at least it’s good practice,” She replies, her hands returning to her belly. Kirsch smiles at that. He turns so he’s facing Danny and rests his hand next to hers. He leans down so his mouth is just inches away from Danny’s stomach.

“You better not be as much work as she is,” He whispers against Danny’s belly, which makes her laugh. There’s a kick then that Kirsch feels against his hand and that makes his face light up with a grin. He looks up at Danny, who is smiling, and without really thinking, he places a kiss on the spot where the baby just kicked.

“I think that means you’re outta luck,” Danny whispers and Kirsch laughs.

Yeah, as long as Carmilla’s around, the kid will be _just_ as much work as she is.

-

**_Present Day._ **

So yeah, her concern is something he’ll take. “She’s back to her normal snow queen self,” He says and he tries to stay quiet so Carmilla doesn’t hear him. “It’s probably gonna snow in here any second,” He continues and he hears laughter on the other end.

“She didn’t do anything to self-destruct last night?” She asks and Kirsch thinks about lying to her. Telling her that nope, when he got to the loft, she was knitting a sweater but he can’t. He can’t do that to her. He knows that now, Danny cares about Carmilla just as much as he does.

“When uh, I got here she had a bottle of tequila,” He says and Danny sighs.

“You talk her out of it?” She asks.

“I had to pour it down the drain,” He says and Danny scoffs.

“Fuck,” She says and yeah, Kirsch feels the same way. “Should we not have told her?” Danny asks and Kirsch kind of wishes he were home because there’s only so much comfort he can offer through a telephone.

“We had to. If she ever found out we’d kept it from her, she’d kill us both in our sleep,” Kirsch says and he hears creaking floorboards. He doesn’t bother looking behind him because he knows it’s Carmilla.

“That’s true,” Danny says and some of the tension has left her voice now.

“How’d Thea sleep?” He asks, switching gears, not eager to keep talking about Carmilla while she’s right behind him.

“Fine. Asked for you to read her a bedtime story though,” Danny says and her voice goes soft, as it often does whenever she talks about Thea and it makes his heart beat speed up. “Apparently you do the voices better, which is total bullshit,” She continues and Kirsch snorts.

“She up yet?” He asks.

“No, still tucked in. She should be up soon though,” Danny comments.

“I’m gonna leave soon,” He says and from behind him he hears Carmilla making a whip sound with her mouth. Danny laughs.

“Tell her I can hear that,” She says and Kirsch finally turns around, meeting Carmilla’s mirth-filled eyes.

“She says she can hear that,” Kirsch says and Carmilla shrugs.

“If she’s got a problem, she knows where to find me,” Carmilla jokes and Danny laughs again.

“Get bagels on the way home,” Danny says and then she hangs up the phone. Carmilla throws herself down on the bed, nearly bouncing Kirsch off the bed.

“She’s got you wrapped around her pinky finger, two times over,” Carmilla comments, reclining on her elbows. Kirsch rolls his eyes.

“Yeah well you would know what that looks like,” He mutters and he doesn’t mean to be….well, mean, but it’s the first thing out of his mouth and he’s never been good at thinking before he speaks. Carmilla’s nostrils flare.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She exclaims, an edge to her voice, and he knows he’s got her mad now.

“Nothing,” He says because now isn’t the time for an argument, not after what he just pulled her away from the night before. He knows that Carmilla’s a ticking time bomb and he doesn’t want to give her any reason to go off. So he unplugs his phone and walks over to Carmilla’s side of the bed. She still looks grumpy but she’s not pushing and he’s glad for that. He puts a hand on her shoulder and leans down to put a kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t do anything stupid, Karnstein,” He says and Carmilla laughs lightly.

“I make no promises,” She says and he laughs.

He makes sure to ruffle her hair before he leaves.

-

Thea wakes up just after she hangs up the phone. She bounds out of her room, dragging her blanket and rubbing at her eyes. She yawns and doesn’t say anything as she climbs onto the couch next to Danny, who has her arms open for her. She slides onto Danny’s lap and throws her arms around her neck, nestling her head into the side of her neck. Danny kisses her temple. There’s a light bark and then Sadie hops up on the couch, resting her head on Danny’s free thigh.

It’s times like this that it hits her that she’d never imagined her life to be like this. Ten years ago, she thought she’d be an Olympic athlete, with at least two gold medals by now, and living in some kind of high rise condo, in a big city somewhere where she could party as much as she wanted and wake up the next day and go running. For a living.

She’d never pictured having a kid. And with Wilson Kirsch of all people. Or living with him. And their dog that they bought _together_.

This was never supposed to be her life. But she’s long since gotten over the idea that she could have had different. Because when she’s got her daughter cuddled into her lap, mumbling sleepily, she realizes that she’d never want anything different.

(Okay, maybe she’d want some things to be different. But Thea? Thea she wouldn’t trade for the world.)

Thea finally lifts her head, with a giggle, when the dog starts to nudge her foot with her nose. “Hi, Momma,” Thea whispers, leaning her forehead against Danny’s. Danny smiles.

“Hi, Monkey,” Danny whispers in response. Thea smiles and Danny swears her heart grows to twice its size.

“Where’s Daddy?” Thea asks, still not moving her face away from Danny’s.

“With Aunt Carmilla,” Danny says and both of them are still whispering. Thea pouts.

“I wanna go with Auntie Carm,” Thea whines and Danny mock pouts back.

“You were just with her yesterday! What, am I not good enough?” She asks and Thea giggles.

“No, I love you, Momma,” She says and leans in so their noses brush against each others just slightly.

“Oh I don’t know. You hurt my feelings, kid,” Danny jokes and Thea furrows her brow.

“Can I kiss them better?” She asks and Danny pretends to look contemplative. Then she nods.

“I think so,” She responds and then starts kissing Thea’s cheeks. Thea’s giggles are loud enough that they scare the dog off the couch.

“S-stop it Mom!” Thea says through giggles as Danny’s hands had started moving against her sides, tickling her.

The door opens and Danny’s fingers still. “What’s going on here? Is there a maiden I need to rescue?” Kirsch say from the doorway and Thea grins,

“Me! Rescue me, Daddy! Mommy’s tickling me,” She yells and Kirsch puts down the bag Danny hopes is filled with bagels. He flexes his muscles and Danny rolls her eyes behind Thea’s back. Show off. He charges in and takes Thea from Danny’s arms, so he’s cradling her in his.

“I’ve got you, Princess,” He announces, rather valiantly and Danny can’t help but smile as Kirsch blows raspberries against Thea’s stomach.

He might be a brute and that probably won’t ever change but he treats Thea well and she can’t complain about how he treats her either.

(And she doesn’t think about how her heartbeat quickens and she gets those butterflies whenever he looks at her with that stupid grin of his - she doesn’t.)

“C’mon Princess of the Bagel kingdom, let’s get some schmear on these beasts,” Kirsch says, grabbing the bag of bagels from the table. He’s got Thea on his hip and he shoots Danny a wink as he passes them and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t wink at me, Kirsch,” She says, standing up and following them into the kitchen.

“Afraid you’ll fall for my smooth moves?” He says, putting Thea down and moving toward the counter next to the toaster. Danny scoffs.

“Not a chance, buddy,” Danny says and she misses the way his face falls when she opens the fridge.

Ten minutes later, Thea is happily munching on a bagel at the kitchen table, her blanket still clenched tightly in her free hand.

Danny is leaning against the counter next to Kirsch with her arms crossed. Kirsch puts a plate in front of her. “Blueberry bagel with strawberry schmear?” He says and Danny raises an eyebrow. She grabs the plate.

“Never say schmear again,” She mutters. She stares at him for a more seconds.

“What?” He asks with a smile. She shrugs.

“You’ve got schmear on your face,” She says, laughing as he crosses his eyes to try and see it.

“Daddy you’re so silly,” Thea says from the table as Danny moves to sit down next to her. She smiles.

“Yeah, silly looking,” Danny says, loud enough for Kirsch to hear. Thea giggles in response and Danny kisses the top of her head.

When Thea’s not looking, he gives her a hand gestures that shows her _exactly_ what he thinks of that.

Yeah, it’s not exactly what she imagined.

But it’s still really damn good.

-

When Laura wakes the following morning, there's a blanket she doesn't remember pulling up around her shoulders and the pillow is still hugged closely to her chest.

The door is closed and she knows she didn't do that herself.

Her Dad.

She feels color flood her cheeks and in the light of day, the room is much more alive. She can see the pictures on the wall and the collection of books on the topsy turvy shelf they'd built together. And it's all too much now. She stands and drops the pillow on the bed. She walks out of the room without looking back.

She walks down the stairs and her Dad is sitting at the kitchen table, his reading glasses halfway down his nose as he reads the morning paper. He's got a cup of coffee in front of him that's halfway finished but Laura suspects it's probably cold by now. Her Dad's always been an early riser. He glances over the top rim of his glasses and smiles at her. She gives him a short, tight smile in return. She sits across from him. "Good morning sweetheart," He says, looking back down to the paper.

"Anything interesting?" Laura says, gesturing to the paper in front of him. He shakes his head.

"Your return hasn't made the front page yet if that's what you're wondering," He replies without looking up and Laura blushes. She wasn't expecting that, or any kind of fanfare really, but she knows how things in this town work. The paper is more like a glorified gossip rag than actual journalism and the moment anything even minorly interesting happened to make a splash, the paper was reporting on it.

She sighs. "Another pot of coffee?" Laura asks and her Dad nods, still not looking up. She's filling the pot with water when her Dad pipes up from his seat,

"Sleep well?" He asks and Laura freezes. She takes a deep breath.

"Fine," She replies shortly, walking back over to the pot. She turns it on and turns back to her Dad, who is finally looking up at her.

"I know it can't be easy being back here, Laura," He starts and she's not sure she wants to hear what else he has to say so she pushes off the counter.

"We're not talking about this," She mutters, turning back toward the stairs. He doesn't try and stop her. "I'm going to take a shower," She says just loud enough for him to hear and then she climbs the stairs quickly. She slams the bathroom door behind her quickly. She leans against it, tossing her head back so it hits the the door. Her eyes flutter closed and she bites down firmly on her bottom lip.

It doesn’t feel any easier today and she wishes that it did.

She wishes that it did. She wishes that when she’d woken up that morning, she’d felt okay again. That being back home was somehow the band aid that she needed to cover all her wounds and feel better.

But it isn’t.

Instead it’s a minefield of memories and she seems to be stepping on a new one every few seconds.

Maybe moving back in with her Dad wasn’t the best decision. She loves him, of course she does, but this house? This house belongs to 16 year old Laura.

It doesn’t belong to 25 year old Laura.

She pulls her shirt off and turns toward the mirror. Her hair is in a bun, a few pieces framing her face. She runs her fingers lightly across the bones of her cheeks, which are more defined than they were when she was a teeanger. She touches her forehead, which is just a little bit wrinkled and her fiancee always used to tell her that they made her look like she laughed often and smiled more than that. So she never hated them. Her fingers drop to her collarbone then. It protrudes, like it always has, and she remembers all of the times that Carmilla pressed kisses to it. Her stomach is flat and she can see the edges of her ribcage. She’s thinner than she used to be, but she figures that’s a product of stress.

Her body, for all intents and purposes, looks almost the same as it did as when she left.

But everything in her head? That’s all different. That’s all new.

The girl in the mirror now wouldn’t recognize the girl who looked in it last.

She closes her eyes.

She turns away from the mirror then and as she turns the water of the shower on, she thinks that she ought to stop comparing herself to the girl she was at 16.

(She knows that girl never would have ran out of her wedding. Because the person she saw at the other end? Wouldn’t have been a hallucination.)

She steps into the shower and the water is scalding.

She doesn’t bother turning it down. She lets the hot water burn her skin, red welts appearing on her back and shoulders.

She doesn’t notice she’s crying until a drop hits her mouth and leaves the taste of salt on her lip.

She clenches her eyes closed, forcing out the tears, hoping that they’ll stop.

They don’t.

She brings her hands up to her face, letting out a sob, turning so she leans against the wet wall of the shower. She gives into the tears. Slowly, she slides down the wall of the shower until she’s sitting on the floor of the tub. The water is still hitting her and she buries her face in her knees, sobbing until the water runs cold.

-

Carmilla’s loft smells like vanilla.

She’s showered, her hair tossed up in a bun, and a pair of yoga pants she’s had for longer than she’s lived in this apartment resting on her hips. She’s eating Nutella straight of the jar, a hockey game she’s barely paying attention to on in front of her as she sketches.

She hasn’t drawn anything in at least three days and that’s a drought for her.

She started an hour ago and the first sketch she’d done looked suspiciously like someone she was trying awfully hard to forget so she scrapped it.

And the second one didn’t turn out much better.

She realized then that maybe drawing without a reference wasn’t the best plan. So she pulled up a picture of Thea from the previous night and started sketching that.

And Thea doesn’t look a thing like Laura.

She’s halfway through her face when, from the kitchen, Ell shouts, “Come taste this batter, I want to see if it’s sweet enough,” And Carmilla huffs.

“I’m in the middle of a sketch,” She mumbles, not looking up. After a moment, there’s a spoon in front of her face that’s got cookie dough batter on it. Carmilla glances up at Ell out of the corner of her eye. “Seriously?” Carmilla asks and Ell nods, eyes wide. Carmilla’s tongue darts out and she takes some of the dough into her mouth. She can’t stop the wince from coming across her face. Ell bites down on her bottom lip.

“That bad?” She asks and Carmilla nods.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve had days old Chinese that tasted better than that,” Carmilla says and Ell huffs, flopping down on the couch next to Carmilla.

"Guess I'm not cut out to be America's next greatest baker," Ell says as she leans over Carmilla's shoulder, looking into the open jar of Nutella. “Can I have some?” She asks and Carmilla takes a spoonful from the jar. Ell’s waiting with an open mouth and Carmilla puts the spoon on her tongue, rolling her eyes as she does. Ell's mouth closes and she licks the Nutella off the spoon with a grin.

“You’re a toddler,” Carmilla mutters, a small smile pulling at the side of her mouth, because even if she has to spoon feed her, she is pretty adorable.

“It’s practice for when you have to spoon feed me when I’m 80 with no teeth,” Ell says smiling and Carmilla looks away from her then. It's when she talks about the future, so flippantly, that Carmilla starts to feel sick to her stomach and like she wants to run far, far away. Luckily, she's distracted by Ell folding her lips over her teeth, chomping them together, clearly in an attempt to pretend she's lost her teeth. She leans in toward Carmilla, who makes a face and backs away.

“You’re gross,” Carmilla says and Ell smiles. She leans in, their mouths just a few inches away from each others. Ell nudges Carmilla’s nose with her own before she leans in and presses their lips together. She pulls back, just for a second,

“You taste like Nutella,” She murmurs against Carmilla’s lips. Carmilla smiles, giving Ell a quick peck before she replies.

“So do you,” She says and then she pulls away. She looks back down at her sketch, picking up her piece of charcoal. “Remind me again why you’re pretending to be Susie Homemaker?” Carmilla says, her focus now back on the picture of Thea.

“It’s my Mom’s birthday. I wanted to try and make her favorite cookies,” Ell says and Carmilla snorts.

“Can’t you just buy her a vase like you do every other year?” Carmilla comments and she doesn’t bother looking up because she can imagine the frustrated look Ell is likely to be giving her right now.

“I wanted to try something different,” Ell says with a shrug. She scoots closer to Carmilla, resting her head on her shoulder. “So how was your morning?” Ell asks and Carmilla freezes. She didn’t tell Ell about Kirsch staying the night and most certainly, she didn’t tell her why.

And she knows she should. She should be honest with her. If anything, she owes her that.

But she can’t. So she shrugs. “Nothing special,” She mutters. Ell snuggles in closer to Carmilla and maybe it’s something like guilt that’s bubbling up in her stomach but she puts the sketch down on the table in front of her and she turns to Ell. She puts a hand on her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. She doesn’t say anything. She just leans in, kissing Ell with as much passion as she can, putting as much ‘I’m sorry I’m a fucking liar’ as she can into it. When she pulls back, Ell’s mouth stays open and her eyes stay closed.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” Ell asks, her eyes opening. Carmilla shrugs and then throws an arm around Ell’s shoulder, pulling her in so she’s flush against her side.

“Still trying to get the taste of your shitty cookie dough out of my mouth,” Carmilla says and just as quickly as the wall came down, it’s built back up. Ell laughs. They go quiet for a few moments and Carmilla’s eyes drift closed. Ell’s fingers are tracing figure 8’s on her thigh and she feels….relaxed. And for the first time since last night, she’s not really thinking much about Laura.

(And she says much because really, Laura hasn’t left her head and Carmilla doubts that she ever will.)

“I love you,” Ell murmurs.

Carmilla keeps her eyes clenched tightly closed and pretends she doesn’t hear her.


	4. your eyes look like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes @ the six month wait between chapters. i don't really have an excuse give besides time. and i don't know when i'll be able to update again because writing comes in between school work and my friends. please know that i'm not giving up on this story, or any of my other stories. with that said, enjoy chapter three!

Everything she owns smells like Carmilla.

Her pillows, her couch, her sheets. Everything.

Ell’s alone in her apartment, nursing a cup of coffee while she looks over Anatomy notes. Her mind is hardly with the paper body in front of her though. It’s with Carmilla (and really, when is it not).

She knows something’s off. She’s known her long enough to tell. The subtle changes in her mood, the way she doesn’t look at her but rather looks through her. She also knows better than to ask. Asking doesn’t ever seem to get her anywhere.

Carmilla had kicked her out of the loft nearly two hours ago and Ell still feels off. She wishes Carmilla would talk to her. She wishes that she didn’t have to wish that.

It’s nights like these (which are frequent) that make Ell wish she wasn’t so fucking in love with this girl. That she had the willpower to walk away from her. That for once, she could stop hoping she could change her. She drops the pen in her hand and lets out a long sigh. She pulls her knees up to her chest, running a hand through her hair. Nobody quite gets it, why Ell’s still with Carmilla. Her parents don’t understand. None of her friends have a grasp on it. And she’s convinced they’ve just never known what it’s like to be so in love with somebody that you would wait milleniums for them to come around to where you are.

Her phone vibrates. From across the table, she sees Carmilla’s contact image. She reaches across the table and presses answer, bringing the phone to her ear. “I thought you were going to sleep,” Ell says, a gentle lilt in her voice. She’s so fucking soft when it comes to her.

“Can’t,” Is all she responds with. “What are you doing?” She asks and Ell bites her lip.

“I’m studying. Which is what I should have been doing all afternoon,” Ell admonishes.

“Like you’d rather look at tits on paper than in real life,” Carmilla scoffs out and Ell swears she can hear the eye roll in her voice.

“Fair enough,” Ell laughs out and there’s a warmth that fills her and she forgets that not even five minutes ago, she wished she wasn’t in love with her. “Try some warm milk. It might help you sleep,” Ell suggests and there’s silence for a few moments.

“Glorified cow piss doesn’t do anything for me,” Carmilla says and Ell hears something akin to bitterness in her voice. “Steamed or otherwise. You know what does do something for me?” Carmilla asks and Ell has a feeling she knows where this is going. She bites down on her bottom lip as color floods her cheeks.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” She says and Ell swears Carmilla purrs through the phone.

“You,” She responds with such conviction, shivers run down Ell’s spine. Ell takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Do you want to come over?” She asks and it’s a bad idea, a monumentally bad idea because she has a test soon and really, her studying can’t wait. But she wants Carmilla. Bad. Carmilla laughs. Ell’s buzzer sounds.

“I’m already here,” Carmilla says and Ell hangs up the phone then.

As Carmilla pushes through the door a few moments later and immediately pins her back against the wall, pressing warm kisses against her jawline, she realizes that this is why everything smells like her.

-

Maybe it was a weak move, calling Ell. Actually, she knows it was.

But the lights were off and everytime she closed her eyes, she fucking saw Laura and she needed to get her out of her goddamn head.

So she did what she knew best. Ell.

She fell asleep quite easily after she fucked Ell until the only noises coming out of her were shallow whimpers and desperate pleas of, “Carmilla.”

She wakes up the next morning before Ell. She’s got an arm thrown over her head, her face buried in it. They never fall asleep touching. It’s one of the things Carmilla found something close to solace in. She wasn’t expected to cuddle. Carmilla doesn’t bother with a shirt. She pulls on her underwear and roots through her pants pockets. Her box of cigarettes is nearly gone now but there’s one left and she puts it between her lips. It’s too cold to stand on the balcony now, so she opens the window in the tiny reading nook Ell has set up for herself. She sits on a beanbag as she lights the cigarette and inhales. She watches the smoke travel through the crack of the window, out farther until she can’t see it anymore. She glances back toward Ell. Her blonde hair is spread across the pillow case, like a halo, and she looks so damn peaceful. It would make a beautiful drawing.

If only Carmilla ever drew her.

She tears her eyes away from her before she starts to feel too guilty about that. She finishes her cigarette, letting the headrush take her over for just a few moments. She stands, finding her shirt on the ground.

Maybe it’s the guilt of keeping secrets or the weight of all this shit on her shoulders, but she decides to make Ell breakfast. She’s not very good at cooking, she’s never been, but she manages to cook up a decent omelette. Mushrooms, spinach, and everything. Ell’s favorite.

She brings it to her in bed. She’s still sleeping, which doesn’t surprise her. She could sleep through world war three. Carmilla sits down next to her sleeping frame and drags her fingertips lightly down her bare arm. “Hey, wake up,” Carmilla says softly. Ell rolls over, burying her face in the side of Carmilla’s bare leg.

“Mmm, five more minutes,” She mutters. Carmilla smiles then.

“I made breakfast,” Carmilla whispers and one of Ell’s eyes pops open. She raises an eyebrow.

“You?” She asks and Carmilla laughs. She leans down, lifting Ell’s chin with her fingers. She kisses her lightly.

“Yes, me,” She says against her mouth. She pulls back slightly, “Now eat it before it gets cold and I ended up with burned fingertips for nothing,” She continues, moving backward to push the plate toward Ell.

Carmilla drinks coffee while Ell eats, watching her.

When she finishes, Carmilla wipes the corner of her lips with the pad of her thumb. She leans in, putting her forehead against Ell’s.

“You’re so fucking special,” Carmilla murmurs because she doesn’t know anybody else who could stay with her, give her 100% when all Carmilla gives in return is remarkably less than that. She’s so fucking hard towards her. A girl who is completely soft for her. She resists more than she lets in and she knows what it does to her. She cares about her, she does, she’s just shit at showing it. And she wishes she were capable of giving more but it’s just not in her. Everything she gives is everything she’s got. It’s not much and it’s not nearly enough and Carmilla knows that. There's a part of her that's still blocked off and she doesn't think that wall will ever come down. She knows she’s not the sort of girl Ell deserves. And maybe she’s selfish for keeping her when it’d be best if she let her go. Let her find someone who can give back instead of just selfishly take. But she fucking can’t. Ell’s tethered to her. She’s the wings keeping her from falling below ground. The light she got when she didn’t even realize that she had been in the dark. And God knows she doesn’t deserve her.

But Ell’s stuck with her - through temper tantrums and screaming fits and days when she’s barely been able to say more than two words to her because she’d lost herself and wasn’t willing to be found. And that means more to Carmilla than she can ever verbally express.

Ell’s blushing and Carmilla’s hand raises to grip the back of her neck. She wants to say more but she doesn’t know what else to say that won’t get stuck in her throat. So she leans in and kisses her and hopes it says all the things she can’t.

-

Laura’s wearing an oversized sweater and fuzzy socks, curled up in front of the fireplace, a book by Dana Perino in her lap. There’s a cup of cocoa resting on the table in front of her and she watches the snow fall through the window.

She hasn’t moved in hours. She’s barely turned the pages of her book. Mostly, she’s been looking at old pictures on her phone. Which, in hindsight, had not been the best idea. Buried in her gallery are pictures of her all over the world. Paris, Berlin, Costa Rica. Places she’d kill to be now.

There’s a heaviness in her stomach. Something that feels like an anchor there, keeping her feeling something close to nauseous. Her Dad is in the basement, tinkering with something, and Laura is alone in the living room. There’s pictures everywhere, some of her, some of the cat (who is sleeping on the chair across from her), and….some of Carmilla. And it seems that no matter where she looks, those warm brown eyes are staring back at her. Or, staring through her. It’s got her on edge. She thinks that maybe it’s time she gets out of here, at least for a little while. She’s been cooped up for days now and while she’s not ready to face what’s on the outside of the door, she’s ready to stop sitting around, waiting for the outside to face her.

She puts on a large, bulky white scarf and her Dad’s jacket because nothing she has is warm enough for the harsh Vermont winter.

She doesn’t say where she’s going. She doesn’t leave a note and maybe she should. She knows her Dad worries but it’s a small town - there’s only so many places she can go.

It doesn’t take her to figure out that really, there’s nowhere. There’s nothing familiar to her anymore. The streets look the same but walking them? Feels entirely foreign.

It’s snowing now. Lightly but enough for the flakes to stick to her hair. She’s by a park, one she’d spent a fair few Saturday’s playing soccer in when she was younger. As she sits on a bench outside of the gate, the nostalgia makes her heart ache, just slightly. In high school, she’d played with Lafontaine.

Lafontaine!

They were the closest thing Laura had to a best friend, even after all the time that they’ve been apart. And Laura thinks that maybe they’re the only person she has right now. So she pulls her phone from her pocket and dials their number. They answer after only a few rings, “Hey, Hollis,” They say and there’s a calm that settles over Laura then. “What’s crackin?” They ask and she laughs.

“What are you doing right now?” Laura asks and there’s a pause.

“Helping Perr make croissants, why? Gonna floo me?” They joke and Laura smiles, though she knows they can’t see her.

“I’m….,” She pauses because home doesn’t feel like the right word but she doesn’t know how else to say it. “Back. I’m back,” She finishes and maybe that’s the best way to describe it.

“No fucking way,” Lafontaine responds and Laura hears the excitement in their voice. “What are you doing home?” And there’s that word again. Home.

She can’t remember the last time she ever really felt like she had a home.

“Things fell apart,” Laura responds and there’s a lump in her throat now. Her eyes well and she swallows, forcing the tears down. “Can I come over?” She asks and she sounds helpless. While she’s glad that Lafontaine has her back, there’s a part of her that wishes that it wasn’t necessary. That things had just worked out. She could have gotten married that day and nothing would be like this.

“Course. Open door policy for you, Hollis. Any time you want. I’ll text you the address,” They reply softly and Laura smiles.

“Thanks,” She replies and she isn’t sure she knows how to properly express just how grateful she is that Lafontaine is still on her side - still willing to help. Even if she’s made some shitty choices.

-

Their house is nice.

It’s comfortable. They have a grey cat named JP and he comes up to Laura right away, nuzzling his cheek against Laura’s ankle. There’s already tea and scones on the table before Laura even walks in the doorway.

The moment she walks in, Perry’s arms are wrapped around her, squeezing her tightly. “We missed you, Laura,” Perry whispers in her ear and there’s a twinge of guilt that pulls at her heart because she’d separated herself so much from these people who have meant so much to her. And it’s just...been easier that way. They were part of a life she’d long since stopped living. In a way, they’d stopped feeling like hers.

“I missed you too, Perr,” Laura whispers. Perry pulls back and there are tears misting her eyes and Laura feels a sense of comfortability here that she hasn’t felt since she’s come back.

She’s barely been free of Perry’s embrace for a few seconds when Lafontaine is standing in front of her, a lopsided grin on their face. “Get over here, Hollis,” They say and Laura rushes into their arms with a watery grin. After a few moments, they pull apart and Lafontaine looks down at Laura. They furrow their eyebrows. “No offense but you look like shit,” They say and Laura bows her head and laughs.

“Thanks,” She murmurs through the last of her laughter, though by the end her laugh has even started to feel fake to her. Lafontaine’s eyes go soft and Laura swears she sees pity in them and that’s the last thing she wants. So she plasters a smile on her face, tries to convince herself that it’s real, and says, “Alright, I’ve been dying to know about your wedding plans.”

And that’s all she has to say because Perry’s face lights up and she holds up a finger before running off into the next room, presumably to get the binders upon binders she’s filled by now.

-

She’s different.

It’s barely been three months since the last time they had seen her and still, there’s something off.

Though, it’s gotta be worth something that three months ago, they were helping her pack her stuff after she’d run out on her wedding.

And Lafontaine thought there was no light in her eyes then. They’re sure they’ve never seen Laura look so lights out in their entire life.

She listens to Perry ramble on about the wedding but Lafontaine can tell it’s barely registering. So they clear their throat, “Hey Perr, think the croissants are almost done?” They ask and they make sure the question they can’t say out loud is written in their eyes. There’s a look of recognition on Perry’s face and Lafontaine knows she reads the message loud and clear. She nods.

“Can’t have them burning! They’re the bakery’s biggest sell,” Perry says as she stands, wiping her hands to get rid of the invisible crumbs, before she disappears into the kitchen. Lafontaine and Laura are silent for a moment.

“Alright, what’s up Hollis?” Lafontaine asks and Laura shrugs. She’s playing with the frayed edges of her sweatshirt and she sighs.

“You know, when you’re running away from your fiancee the day of your wedding, you kind of think it can’t get any worse than that,” Laura mumbles and Lafontaine stays quiet. “They fired me. Budget cuts,” She says with air quotes, “I was the most junior reporter on their staff so they fired me. I had just gotten back in the country, on one of their stupid assignments, and they called and told me not to come into work the next day,” She continues and she’s sniffling now. “I had no money, no job, nowhere to live, so I had to come back,” She finishes and there’s tears running down her cheeks now. Lafontaine moves so they’re sitting to her. Laura crashes into their side. “I never wanted this,” Laura sputters into Lafontaine’s shoulder as they stroke her hair they whisper,

“I know you didn’t. I know,” Because they don’t quite know what else to say. Laura lost it all.

But there’s a selfish part of them that’s glad she’s here because she’s one of the best friends they’ve ever had. And they’ve always thought the place wasn’t the same without her.

“I don’t feel like this is home anymore. I made a life in New York and that was home. This  just feels like a ghost town I left behind when I was eighteen,” Laura continues and she’s still crying, Lafontaine can tell by heaviness in her voice. “I never wanted to come back,” She mutters. “It’s hers,” She adds and Lafontaine furrows their brow. Then a lightbulb goes off.

Carmilla.

“It’s as much yours as it is hers. I’m pretty sure it’s not written anywhere that she owns the town,” Lafontaine comments and Laura shrugs against them.

“Doesn’t matter. Every memory I have here is her,” Laura says and Lafontaine can’t quite argue with that. They’d known each other since they were five. Lafontaine is sure that every place Laura goes, there’s a memory attached. “Which is why nothing here is mine,” Laura sighs and Lafontaine hugs her tighter.

“Make new memories, Hollis. Pretend the old ones are on a VHS tape and you can record right over them. Then everything here is yours again,” Lafontaine suggests and Laura shrugs.

“Yeah,” She replies and then she goes quiet. They stay that way until Perry comes back into the living room, piping hot croissants on a plate.

-

She should be doing lesson plans.

She should be inside with her girlfriend, by the fire, drinking spiked hot chocolate.

She should be doing anything but this. Especially right now.

She’s bundled up, a bright red scarf tied tightly around her neck, and even brighter red roses clutched in her fist. It’s snowing, lightly for now but she knows it’s bound to get worse (it always does), and her beanie is pulled down over her ears. Her nose is red and beginning to run but she’s nearly at her destination so she doesn’t bother with it. Not that reaching her destination would offer her much reprieve as her desired location is just as much outside as the street she’s walking on right now.

She doesn’t usually go so early in the month. She saves this trip until the weight of the days start to get too heavy to bear but….she needs this.

And maybe it’s a little fucked up that the place Carmilla goes when things are too much is Laura’s Mother’s grave, but it’s the safest place she knows. For as young as she was when Charlotte passed away, she still remembers the feeling of utter calm she brought to her, the way her own Mother never could. Her own Mom was chaos, sadness, and disaster. Charlotte was calm, safety, and assurance. She was the Mom Carmilla never had.

(Maybe, more fucked up than that, is how every shred of Carmilla’s happiness is tied to Laura. Even now.)

She knows the pathway to her grave like she knows the way around a grocery store. It’s been years - years that she’s been coming here at least once a month. A solitary moment of peace in an otherwise turbulent life. She walks, clutching the bouquet close to her chest, keeping her eyes trained on the snow beneath her feet. It’s all fresh. Nobody’s come down this way since the fresh coat covered the ground. Nobody ever really does - come down here that is. She’s buried by an old willow tree, her favorite kind, and she’s the only grave within feet. It’s peaceful here. There’s something….calm about death. At least, that’s what she’s always thought. There’s no tumultuous turns and unexpected arrivals and departures. Everything just is. She’s nowhere ready to die but the idea doesn’t scare her. Not like it seems to scare everybody else. Maybe because there isn’t a whole lot in her life she’s entirely looking forward to.

Her flowers from the previous month are still there. Wilted, of course, next to a bouquet full of daisies and chrysanthemums. Mr. Hollis. He always brought those. She takes the wilted flowers from their vase and kneels down, her knees soaked instantly by the cold snow. She puts the new bouquet where the old was. She sighs. She doesn’t have a lot to say - not this time. “She’s home,” Carmilla starts. She pauses then because what else can she say? That she misses her? That she wishes she’d never come back? That she’s desperate to see her but hopes she never has to? “Took her long enough,” Is what she settles on because even though she knows nobody is listening, something in the back of her head tells her that that’s what she would want to hear.

The calm takes over her in an instant. Her heartbeat slows and she doesn’t feel the harsh biting of the cold anymore. She knows, deep down, that if Charlotte were here, she would be on Laura’s side. Firmly. But maybe, in that same vein, if she were here, everything would be different. Maybe there wouldn’t be sides to take at all.

But that’s too much to think of now. Because nothing can change what this is. What the present is made of.

The knees of her pants are soaked through now. She shivers and drags her hands down her covered arms. She’s not sad, not about this, at least not the way that she used to be, but her heart feels heavy and her chest aches in a way she can’t quite explain. She sits in silence. Words aren’t coming her, not this time, so she just sits and she waits for the cold to numb her.

She’s there for nearly five minutes when from behind her she hears a squeak and it sounds all too familiar.

-

She leaves Lafontaine’s house not feeling any better than when she’d arrived. In fact, her heart feels even heavier.

Talking about Carmilla had a tendency to do that to her.

What she had told Lafontaine echoes in the back of her head. It was a feeling she hadn’t been able to put  a name to until that moment. The lack of belonging, the fact that she felt like a misshapen puzzle piece trying to force itself into the one open space. Maybe it was stupid, because nobody actually owned a town, but there wasn’t a single place here that wasn’t haunted by the ghost of what they used to have.

And Laura’s achilles heel has always been nostalgia. It’s the thing that gets into her veins and hardens like cement, weighing her down and keeping her stuck.

And it’s everywhere here. From the edge of the river where they used to dip their feet on warm summer days, Laura begging Carmilla to come in for just a few minutes, to the tail end of the highway where Laura wept as she drove out of the city limits before leaving for college, there are memories. Memories that she holds onto. She often tells herself that it’s the writer in her, the desire for life experience, that holds onto everything, even the things that hurt, because you never know when inspiration might strike you.

Every memory here feels like it weighs ten pounds. Like everywhere she goes, she’s trudging through quicksand.

She needs a clear head. Or at least the closest thing she’ll be able to get to one.

It doesn’t take her long to figure out where she needs to go. It’s somewhere that maybe, she ought to have gone first.

Though it’s been years since she’s taken this route, her feet remember the way. Like muscle memory she’s never been able to shake. Her hands are shoved in her pockets and once she reaches the cemetery gates, she pauses.

It’s been years since she’s been here.

Since she’s been to see her Mother.

She wonders if her Mother would have been happy with who she is. If she would have been proud of how Laura grew up.

If she’d be proud of her even now.

She bites down on her lip now because she feels the tears pushing at the back of her eyes and she won’t do this. She’s fucking stronger than this.

(At least, she should be.)

She doesn’t have any flowers. She wonders if she should have stopped and bought some. She wonders if anybody besides her Dad brings flowers these days. She knows….well she knows someone used to but it’s been years now and things don’t stay the same. She feels guilty then for not stopping. She’s visiting for the first time in six years and she’s coming empty handed. She digs her fingernails into the pads of her fingers. The tears push harder now but she wills them back.

There’s footprints in the snow and Laura wonders if someone is buried close to her now. Clearly, someone’s been to visit them.

She’s close to the willow tree now. There’s no new headstones in sight and Laura wonders who the person who made the footprints came to see.

She’s a few steps away from her Mother’s headstone when she sees that there’s someone knelt down in front of it.

Well, there’s the answer to that question.

Laura’s heart stops. The hair. The shape. God, even the goddamn black jeans. She’d recognize her anywhere. Maybe she should turn around. She wills her feet to move but they don’t. She’s stuck. Frozen in place, though not from the elements but from the pure shock of seeing who is on her knees in front of her Mother’s grave.

Carmilla.

So Laura does the only thing she can think of.

She squeaks.

-

Carmilla’s heart is in the pit of her stomach. She doesn’t want to turn around, half of her fearing what (or rather, who) she’ll see when she does, the other half wondering if she’s only just imagined the sound and there’s a quiet sort of desperation in her that wills it not to be if only to get the reunion over with.

She’s glad she’s already on the ground because her knees are jelly. She doesn’t dare stand up. She doesn’t dare turn around.

“Hi,” She hears faintly from behind her and the part that was scared feels terrified now. She clears her throat. She stands, wiping the snow off of her knees. Still, she doesn’t turn around.

“Hi,” She responds and her voice is hoarse. It’s silent again and Carmilla wishes she were anywhere but here. She hears the crunching of the snow, telling her that Laura’s taken a step closer and it’s irrational, she knows, but she flinches. She hasn’t turned around, she doesn’t want to, because her heart is already beating two hundred times per minute and she fears that if she turns around and looks it may just beat right out of her chest.

“I-I,” Laura starts to speak but Carmilla hears the words fall short and this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Carmilla takes a deep breath. “It’s been awhile, huh?” Is the fully formed sentence that finally comes out of her mouth.

And she can’t do this. She can’t do the small talk, here in the cemetery, in front of the grave of someone who would be ashamed to see what they’ve turned into. So with all of the courage that she has (and it’s less than it ought to be), she turns around.

She looks…..tired. Weary, lost, and exhausted. And Carmilla’s nothing but ashamed of how easy it still is to read her. How it’s been six years and still, she’s as familiar as the opening line of her favorite book.

She’s fidgeting with the edge of her scarf awkwardly and she’s not looking at her. Rather, she’s looking at the fresh bouquet of roses that Carmilla had just put down. Her eyes are misty and it hits Carmilla that this only the second time they had ever been at this grave together.

They’d never visited at the same time. Charlotte meant different things to both of them. It felt almost...wrong to come with Laura, so she never did. Laura went more often than Carmilla did but once she left, Carmilla took the time that Laura used. Partly because she hated the idea of the grave staying barren and partly because it kept her close to Laura in some twisted way.

Carmilla watches Laura for a moment. She can’t tell how she feels. She can’t tell if she wants to run, if she wants to stay, if she wants to spit in her face and say fuck you for the shit you put me through, or if she wants to pretend she doesn’t even exist. Her stomach’s in a knot and her fists, which are shoved in her pocket, are clenched hard. She’s not angry, not in the way she thought she would be, but there’s part of her that aching in a way she can’t identify.

Laura’s eyes drift back to her. She sniffles but Carmilla doesn’t see any tears. Laura’s eyes are guarded, in a way they never used to be, and those she can’t read. Not anymore. “It’s good to see you,” Laura says softly and Carmilla bites down hard on the inside of her cheek and there’s a million thoughts going through her head. The primary one is bullshit. Carmilla doesn’t respond. The silence falls between them again and Carmilla feels….suffocated. Like even though she’s out in the open, feet separating them, they air they share is strangling her.

“I have to go,” Carmilla says because she just can’t be here anymore. She needs to be able to breathe. She lowers her eyes to the ground and she takes a few steps away.

“Hey,” Laura says and Carmilla pauses, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?” She continues, a note of insecurity hanging off the edge of her words. Carmilla closes her eyes. She laughs bitterly.

“I can’t be anything else,” She replies and continues to walk, leaving Laura to watch her retreat.

-

Laura watches her walk away and suddenly she’s 18 again, watching her retreat and she shudders.

She’s seen Carmilla walk away an awful lot of times and she ignores the twinge in her heart this time and convinces herself it’s some sort of twisted nostalgia that makes it ache the way it did years ago.

It’s like a jolt - to realize that even this, her mother's grave, isn’t hers anymore. That in the years she’s been gone, Carmilla’s taken this over too.

Laura has nothing left. There’s a tightness in her throat and the familiar feeling in her ankles that she’s come to recognize as the desire to run.

So she does.

It’s slippery and she doesn’t have much traction on her boots so she nearly slips a few times but she doesn’t let up until she’s back at her own front door. She pushes the door open and doesn’t bother taking off her shoes. She doesn’t say anything to her Father who is sitting in front of the television with the newspaper unfolded in front of him. She goes to her room and with tears running down her cheeks, she pulls the suitcase from the floor onto her bed. It’s barely unpacked but there are a few pieces of clothing hanging out of it. She shoves them back beneath the top and tries to slam it shut. Her vision is clouded with unshed tears and she isn’t quite sure what she’s doing. All she knows is that she can’t be here anymore.

She’s trying to get the zipper closed when there’s a hand resting on her shoulder. “Laura, Laura, what’s wrong?” Her Father asks and she shrugs him off.

“Nothing, I-I just. I have to go. I can’t,” She stutters out and she knows she’s not making any sense but the urge to just disappear is overwhelming now. She continues pulling at the zipper, yanking it with all the strength she has in her body. He puts both hands on her shoulders now. He spins her around and looks her in the eye.

“Talk to me, ladybug,” He says softly and it’s the familiar sound of the old nickname that causes her heart to squeeze tight and her body to crumble against her Father’s. She buries her face into his shoulder and she sobs. He tightens his grip. He rubs her shoulders and whispers calming words in her ear. She wishes she could tell him every racing thought in her head but it’s enough now that he’s holding her. The sound of his heartbeat calms her own and for the first time, she feels like maybe this is home.

-

She’s numb.

Maybe it’s the cold or maybe that’s just something she can blame the feeling on.

She’d thought about what it would be like to see Laura again after all this time. What she might do. What she might say. How she might feel.

She’d entertained every possibility. Anger, sadness, both.

She never thought she’d feel nothing. Nothing but nostalgia.

She crosses her arms and presses them against her chest. She’s nearly to Kirsch’s house and there’s a smile on her face she hasn’t felt there in years. Maybe seeing her was all she needed. The last thing she required in order to finally let go.

The door is already open. Sadie runs up to her, nuzzling against her legs. Kirsch comes out of the kitchen, towel thrown over his shoulder. “What’re you doing here, Karnstein?” He asks and she looks down.

“I saw her,” She says in reply to him. His face falls and she sees the worry in his eyes. She shakes her head. “I didn’t feel anything,” She continues and Kirsch’s smile nearly splits his face. He’s front of her before she even has a chance to blink. He embraces her and she smiles against his shoulder.

Maybe this is what being ‘over it’ feels like.


End file.
